The Turks Christmas Special
by Reno Spiegel
Summary: It's that time of year again. The time for heavy snow, the time for old men with their jackets taking jaunts on the cleared sidewalks. . .and the time for Reno, enjoying his vacation, to get irritated with the company party.
1. Twelve Inches Falling

**Author's Note**: Because the Planet, as I assume, has no Christ, there is no need for Christmas. But I want a Christmas special. So there will be Santa Claus, elves, and everything but the religious influence. Just a bit more fucked up. And it shall be called Winter Day, because I am tacky. And it will be on November 25, because I like the month. Deal with it.

**How this works is so**: Today, October ninth -- despite the fact I wrote this in, like, July or August -- marks exactly twelve weeks from Christmas Day. As the chapter title gives away, there will be twelve pieces to this, posted every week until Christmas Day, which will be the last one. Savvy? As some random trivia, this is also my girlfriend's birthday and our homecoming dance day. I normally don't say stuff nobody cares about -- and no one reads these goddamn things anyway -- but if you could, wish her a "Happy Birthday Kathy" via review for shits and giggles? She'd appreciate it. xD

---

**The Turks Christmas Special : Twelve Inches Falling**

---

The year had been odd since September, when the first snowflake of the season fell. Admittedly, it was the wrong season for snowflakes at all, and everyone knew it, but it was still a time for old ladies to start baking cookies and getting out their scarves for Winter Day. Much to the bemusement of snow-haters, it was then a time for old men to get out their snowblowers when Midgar awoke to find its things buried under a record five feet of snow the following morning.

"Blame Meteor," said everyone.

Reno was unsure where he stood on this freak weather occurance when it happened again in November. Sitting on the roof of his house because he planned to eventually hop down and look for his car, he decided his indecision was based on the fact he hadn't received any paperwork on it yet. He admitted it; he'd become so dependent on the Turks that his very opinions on the city were molded around what they told him to feel about what was going on. Or maybe it was just because he didn't much care about weather fronts and what they meant.

On one hand, he decided this was a very fun way to live his life; they told him what to do and he disobeyed them, then they paid him for it and he did it all over again.

On the same hand, he had a finger that said fuck all this snow; that single finger won the war, as he wanted his smokes from his car.

Really, the antenna with the blaze-orange flag sticking above the snow made the car easy to find, but Reno was still sitting on his roof because he had no intention of freezing his ass off unless it was a dire emergency. And so he sat and thought for a bit longer, craving a cigarette but at the same time not feeling much like hypothermia.

It was November 16, which meant that Winter Day was only a little over a week away. Winter Day was basically a day that the corporations had made up to sell cards, candy, and presents. As the myth went, an old man in a red suit named Schmidt went around putting toys down chimneys and being carried around by a team of small dragons. So the rule was to go to bed and turn off your fireplace, because Schmidt didn't take any responsibility for burnt toys, which were made by gnomes somewhere near Icicle Inn.

Reno knew as well as anyone over age ten that it was all a load of Schmidt itself, and that it just meant the parents were stressed to get their kids to bed and the presents placed and department store Schmidts to be placed for public ridicule. The whole holiday would have made Reno sick, but he liked getting the usual gifts of liquor and tobacco.

Last year, he'd gotten Elena an engagement ring. The problem was, she'd seen it as just a friendly gesture and Reno had said nothing. He simply shrugged it off, went on a bender to end them all, and passed out the next night in some poor woman's garbage pile. The look on her face when she found what she reported to be a dead Turk laying atop her discarded newspapers made it all worthwhile for Reno, who had been perfectly awake but too out of it to move.

But Reno hadn't persisted a relationship with Elena anymore, simply because he'd received no paperwork on that, either.

The finger that said he needed to look for his car rotated just enough to say "Fuck you!" to ShinRa, Inc, which the Turks were still a part of. They'd decided to stay with the company because "Tseng would have wanted it that way," which was a nice way of saying they had absolutely nowhere else to go for work. Really, Rude could have become a bodyguard and Elena had always wanted to be a ShinRa secretary, and Reno. . .well, he admitted, they were all just there because they pitied his lack of real skills.

His more optimistic side piped up and said, "Hey, it does bring in a hefty paycheck, and you're not often bored!" He supposed that was his pre-Meteor optimism, because the AVALANCHE deal had made everyone think they were freelance heroes and no one needed an assassin anymore. Sure, they had regular jobs, but not anything nearly as interesting as their once-ordered "Blow up this building, kill this guy, and take these drugs from him."

Reno also had to admit, he was bored as hell half the time now. Shooting someone who stole company property just didn't require the skills that a three-month drug cartel infiltration did.

Possibly his biggest gripe as of late was that he hadn't been shot at in months. Two years after Meteor, everyone was solving their own problems, crooks got sloppy, and the crime rate plummeted. Reno hadn't taken a bullet since Barret Wallace, and no one had tried to shoot him since the largest mission between then and now, which was to cut down an entire gang.

The excitement just wasn't there anymore.

And Reeve had taken the company for a complete spin, this time saying they were going to be good. Good. "Yeah," had said Rude, "good. The biggest fucking joke in history; ShinRa turning a new leaf." But the Turks still did the same work they always had, just this time more orderly.

Even Elena said she missed Rufus' policy of "bring me the head of the guy and hear nothing else on it." Now Reeve required mission reports. How it went, how many shots were fired, how long it took, how much resistance there was, if it appeared to be a set-up, what time it took place, how many civilians died, how many criminals died, how many were sent to the hospital, how many got away, how much damage was caused to the area, how the Turks were feeling, if any of them had been shot at. . .among many other things in those nine-page reports.

Sometimes, Reno wanted to kill him.

Which brought him back to his list of people to kill. Lately, he'd been thinking about a rampage on department store Schmidts to make a statement. Reeve had given the Turks and a handful of selected employees a few weeks off for Winter Day, which was welcomed whole-heartedly.

After nearly half an hour of a thought process that spun circles in the mulling over why Winter Day really existed, Reno decided his feet were cold enough to piss him off and it was time to get some shoes and dive down for his cigarettes. He disappeared inside for a moment, slipped on his shoes minus socks, and then reemerged onto his roof just in time to hear a shrill cry from up the block.

"Tuuuuuurkeeeeeey!"

He nearly had his gun in his hand when the call had started, and then he'd just sighed in exasperation, slipped, and tumbled off of his roof. Luckily, it was a five foot fall and all he could complain about was being really cold. Yuffie Kisaragi had decided to attach herself to him for the past few years, coming at random times and staying for days on end when Godo kicked her out.

Reno couldn't truly complain; she was excitement, for a change. That and she could cook, which was a lot more than he could. Too bad for her, his guest bedroom was filled with a lot of shit this time around.

"Heeeeey Tuuuuuurkeeeeeeey!!"

She was definitely headed this way, he reasoned, and leaned against the garage door. Well, really, there was two feet of garage door and then his back rested on the side of the house, but it was still garage door under all this mess. "Mess," said his other side, "means you find it a hassle."

Hey, maybe he did have a bit of independence after all.

The figure that skidded around the fence was amusing all on its own. In her old, AVALANCHE battlegear minus the weapons, Yuffie Kisaragi snowboarded right into his driveway with a load of baggage on her shoulders. It may have been more graceful if she hadn't run directly into his antenna, wobbled, and fallen over with another cry, but it was still something to behold nonetheless.

After a moment of groaning and cursing her luck, Yuffie rolled over and looked up at him, smiling as widely as ever. "Heya, Turkey."

He just looked at her with a bit of amusement and pointed to the car. "Dig it out and I'll bum you a smoke," was all he said before jumping up, hauling himself onto the roof by the gutter, and disappearing through his bedroom window once more.

Definitely something akin to the welcome she'd expected, reasoned Yuffie.


	2. Eleven Teapots Whistling

**Author's Note**: This is gonna start off a bit slow, but I promise it'll pick up.

---

**The Turks Christmas Special : Eleven Teapots Whistling**

---

"You want some coffee?"

Okay, Reno silently admitted, he did make a mean fucking cup of coffee. Hell, he'd once considered selling it to coffee chains for the gil, but he didn't have the resources for mass-production of the blend he used. Still, it did well to woo over an associate he needed to get on good terms with. "What in Holy's name is in this?" they would ask with a bit of astonishment, and he would just grin and say it was a family secret that they would have to find out on their own.

He was so busy in his train of thought that he didn't hear her first response, which was not an unnatural thing for Reno. "I said yes!" she shouted. "For Leviathan's sake, quit standing there smiling at the ceiling and get me a towel, wouldja?" The sentence came out garbled from Yuffie's mouth, probably due to the fact her teeth were chattering like nobody's business.

Reno broke from his pleased gaze at the ceiling panels and hurried off to do just that, as she had, in fact, just dug his car out of the snow. Of course, the offer for a cigarette expanded; she'd be getting the royal treatment for not making him walk around in this weather, and they both knew it. Given how open Reno's house was, he yelled to her as he was walking around looking for a towel, "So why did Godo kick you out this time?"

Yuffie sat herself down in Reno's armchair, which he never really used unless he was sitting in his living room. To her, it seemed like all the time that he was in there, but to Reno, it was only when she was around, due to the fact few other people ever visited. "I suppose we could say it was just bad timing on my part." She was lying through her teeth, which were quite active at the moment. "On second thought, could you make some tea instead?" She blinked a few times. "Yeah, I want tea," she murmured, furrowing her brows and musing to herself for a bit.

The redhead tossed a towel in at her on his way to the kitchen, adding in a comment about his tea being really bad, but she didn't catch it. Reno watched as the snow started to fall outside again, sighing as he hunted through cabinets for the kettle. "So, what's this about bad timing?" he called, eager for conversation.

"Uh, yeah." Yuffie sounded a bit flustered, but her voice relaxed as she sank into the chair, curling her bare legs beneath her. Her teeth started to settle down with the help of Reno's central heating, prohibiting speech that didn't sound like someone was typing as she talked. "Let's just say that I dished out one of my nasty little surprises at the wrong time. You know what's going on in Wutai, right?"

Reno leaned to the side and took a quick once-over of the front page of the daily paper. "Uhh. . .oh, yeah. The thing about Da-Chao falling apart because of new Winter Day construction."

"Reno, that was last month; that's all fixed and over with now."

He checked the date on the paper, thus taking his focus off of the kettle and burning his hand on the stove. "Yow! Shit. . .yeah, well, they cancelled my paper subscription when I socked the delivery boy for knocking over my coffee cup while I was sitting on the porch one morning. And you know I watch no television whatsoever." Reno didn't much like the media since they'd finished focusing on AVALANCHE and Heideggar had become an attention whore who dispensed everything about the Turks.

"Bastard shoulda died in the Prod Cloud," said Rude constantly, and it was a true wonder he hadn't.

Yuffie grinned. She'd stayed with Reno numerous times and had always complained about his lack of television, but she didn't really mind either. Talking beat media. "Right. Well, Wutai's got this major Materia shortage right now, and my old man wanted to send me out to find the caves again. You know the routine; big blowup from both of us, I run out saying I'll never come back. Well, this time I decided to say I was pregnant, so he didn't send anyone to tail me he was so damn surprised."

"This was your plan, or that was just an added bonus?" Reno wasn't doing too badly with the tea, but that wasn't saying much as far as tea quality goes.

The ninja rolled her eyes, perusing Reno's stack of magazines in the pocket of the chair. Just the usual; music, booze, and cigars. "Well, when I leave home, there's not usually much of a plan. I just yell, grab my bag of stuff, and come to your place because nobody ever comes to Midgar from Wutai."

"Speaking of coming to my place, did they ever send you the thank-you check from the ball?"

"Yeah, I got it a few weeks afterward."

Reno still found it more amusing than not, the way they had become closer since the AVALANCHE "war." Reeve's idea of redemption for the company was to have a public ball, with an executive attendance requirement. It was requested that each employee try to take an AVALANCHE member or affiliate, but it wasn't a requirement, as that would have been one hell of a ratio to fill. Scarlet had found her way into Cloud's pants -- no one was truly surprised -- and to spite him, Tifa accepted Rude's invitation. Elena had decided to go stag and had floated around the alcohol table for a while, and many AVALANCHE members didn't show, as expected.

Left with a day to the ball, Reno had made a last-minute trip to Wutai, promised Yuffie much freedom from her father, and it had been a date full of drinks, company cake, and trashing the empty offices with Elena. After that, they'd hit the dance floor for the more upbeat songs and Reno had shown off his more-than impressive swingdancing skills with Scarlet. She had then proceeded to reserve him for the night, a thing he was never sure of his feelings over, and Cloud had sulked off with Tifa in the end.

The redhead poked his face out of the kitchen after getting a wet rag for his hand. The one thing he hated about the stove was that it was so fucking touchy; one notch or two to the left and it would cool down a good fifty degrees. There was no meaning in the numbers on the knobs; it was all a guessing game. "I suppose green tea'll work?" He had a strange memory about teas; he was often admonished for being too much like Cid Highwind. "And nothing extra in it, right?"

Yuffie knew what he meant. Reno often took his tea with a bit of alcohol, as he liked everything he consumed to have the most bite possible, and as quickly as he could. The vodka to orange juice ratio in his screwdrivers would have baffled a brewery. "Not today. Besides, it's nine in the morning; too early to start drinking."

He shrugged and opened the refrigerator, rooting through it for his good alcohol. "Oh, speaking of illegal activities for minors, did you happen to grab the cigs out of the car after you uncovered it?" The redhead was still surprised that she'd done it; that wasn't an easy task.

A few seconds passed before the pack in question was thrown in his direction; upon hearing them smack against the wall outside the door, Reno put the teakettle on and picked them up. With the smooth moves of a nicotine addict, he slid one from the pack and into his lips before Yuffie knew he had them in his hand at all. "How long've you been smoking, Reno?"

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling, in a different place than his musing-about-his-coffee spot. "I'ono. How old am I now?"

The ninja laughed a bit. He often asked her that, and she wasn't sure if it was supposed to be something to keep her on her toes or if he truly didn't remember. "You were twenty-four when I was in AVALANCHE, so you'd be twenty-six this year. Want me to show you that on paper, Mister Executive Employee?"

"I'm alright," he said with a grin. He loved it when she came to visit; it really relaxed him for a bit, and she knew how to make him laugh. "Yeah, so it'd be eighteen years now. Hell, those years fly by."

Yuffie's jaw literally dropped. Sure, she'd been expecting a high number, but "high" for years of smoking when you were twenty-six was supposed to be nine or something. "Good god, Reno! I'm surprised you're not dead yet!"

His grin didn't waver a bit. "Yeah, you're tellin' me. Shit, I gave myself to fifteen, but I'm still kickin'." He put the cigarette to his lips again and had the lighter almost to the end of it when Yuffie, with the speed of the ninja she'd been raised as, reached forward from her prone position in the chair, took it out of his fingers, and snapped it in half. She did this nearly as smoothly as he'd taken the thing out, and he didn't seem to like this sudden care from her. "Hey, what's the big --!"

"Reno Drannor, you've been smoking for eighteen years, and Leviathan help you if you can't stop doing it around me so I don't have to watch you die!" she exclaimed, and Reno was kind of surprised how serious she sounded. He was probably more surprised that she'd managed to liberate the entire pack from his pocket in her fluid motion, and now sat on those in a huff. "God, at least go outside or something."

In true Reno fashion, his one response to this was, "God, these days you get into my pants without even me knowing it."

She scoffed and relaxed, arms folded over her chest. "If you're done being a jackass, your kitchen is on fire."

So it seems, was the redhead's next thought as he turned and saw the black-tinted smoke pouring out of the doorway. That was a sign that the kettle had been on for a bit too long on a burner that was, as he'd said, too fucking touchy for his liking. He hurried to turn the stove off, but he picked up the conversation again. "I suppose you'll wanna go shopping, right? Every time you come, you drag me to Wall Market."

The young woman smiled her bright smile, and all was right in Reno's house again. "Of course! Would it be an Official Yuffie Kisaragi Visit if I didn't drag you to look at dresses I won't buy, Materia I won't achieve legally, and food that you'll end up paying for? I think not."

"I have to admit, you're right about that. Want anything for breakfast while I'm in here? I've got so many eggs that I'm starting to convince myself I'm laying them at night." He started toward the cupboard, where he knew the teabags were, silently mourning the loss of his cancer sticks. He knew they were bad and he was way past his limit of smoking years, but, hell, he also knew as well as anyone else that he was addicted.

Yuffie grimaced, standing up and walking to the kitchen to investigate for herself. "Ehh. Green tea and eggs? You've gotta be kidding me."

"You're talking to the man who honestly calls beer a breakfast drink," Reno replied flatly, dropping teabags into the two cups. "Besides, breakfast doesn't really count. It's just that meal you have as an excuse to drink a shitload of coffee and wake up."

"Well put, Mister Uplifting," she mumbled as she crossed the kitchen and bobbed the teabags up and down, the redhead leaning against the counter in that too-lazy-to-work way he always seemed to stand. She had just come to stay two or so weeks ago, which made this visit a pretty fast one. But Godo, as he knew, could be a dick, and so he didn't mind.

He smiled, giving her the once-over. She looked damned healthy; always had, to him at least. He had recently realized that the days of calling her Legs were over; he actually saw a real woman under the childish, ninja facade. He saw her as Yuffie Kisaragi instead of a good lay nowadays. "Speaking of uplifting shit and things that wake me up quickly, how long are you planning on crashing here this time? Assuming you'll be staying for Winter Day, so I've gotta shop sometime without you, Leviathan forbid." His face was awash in a look of mock horror.

"As long as I can annoy you into a drunken stupor," she said cheerily, hopping onto the counter and swinging her legs back and forth. Reno's mind told him the days of calling her Legs were over, but she still had the things and they were as hypnotizing as they had been two years before.

Reno grunted. "I sometimes wake up in drunken stupors, babe. You're either gonna have to come up with new staying conditions or stick around until the booze kills me. Neither one bothers me, personally, so I'll leave it in your hands. By the way, Rude's shit is all over the guest room from when he stayed here last time he got locked out of his apartment, so we're gonna have to bunk up together."

The ninja looked mildly discomforted. "Your bed doesn't bunk, Reno. I'll be astounded if it even holds two people." He'd let her sleep there last time she'd stayed, and she remembered how small the bed was.

"Good thing it's winter and the body heat is useful, then, right?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and pulled back in time to avoid her half-assed slap.

"You live to drive me bonkers, don't you?"

"Would it be an Official Yuffie Kisaragi Visit if I didn't at least try?"

She scoffed. "You are such an asshole."


	3. Ten Drunks aDrinking

**The Turks Christmas Special : Ten Drunks A-Drinking**

---

"Rude?"

Silence was natural.

"It's three in the morning, Rude."

He cocked a brow.

". . .What took you so long?"

"Traffic."

Reno peered around him to the giant SUV he drove, then lifted his own eyebrow. "You liar. You and I both know that you could flatten something with that beast."

Rude shrugged and invited himself in, closing the door after himself. As was usual for these visits, Reno had his chairside lamp on, but something was out of place. Reno had kind of hoped Rude wouldn't notice the fact he'd just gotten back out of bed, nor the snowboard propped up behind the door. But he knew Rude had a sixth sense about things and was very systematic; he had been ever since he'd joined the Turks.

If he'd been a dog, Rude would have been sniffing the air as he glanced around. He walked slowly over to Reno's chair, picked up the remote control, and checked the volume on the stereo. He looked at Reno's side table. He turned in a half circle, met Reno's eyes, and walked back over to him.

"Reno. Your volume is on four. It's usually on eleven. There are only three cigarette butts in your ashtray, and for fuck's sake, you forgot to tie your hair back."

The redhead had known him for years, and he was still amazing. But it had only taken so long for him to pick up on the big man's talents. He smirked and said, "Rude, there's lipstick on your collar. If I'm not mistaken, it's Leather Jacket Red. Given the fact your horn is blaring, I'd guess that Scarlet's in the back of your car wearing her slut suit. Am I right?"

The bald man cracked a grin. "You ready to go?"

"Flipsies?"

"Bet your ass."

"Let's do it." Without leaving a note for the ninja sleeping in his bed, Reno turned off the TV, grabbed his club outfit that he'd change into, and walked out the door.

---

There was something profound that separated Scarlet from most of the women Reno was acquainted with, and taking that into account, it certainly wasn't that she slept with him on a regular basis. Some might say it was her more-than-slightly enticing way of dressing, but Reno didn't think that was anything special, unless special was a word that now meant better access.

No, he decided, it was probably her strip club fascination.

His first week on the job, there had been a party for everyone who worked on the fiftieth floor and above, just because that's how you were ranked in ShinRa. The party had been dull because of the no-alcohol-or-drugs-in-building restriction, and he and Rude had been standing outside smoking cigarettes that violated that rule. They had just gotten on the topic of whose keys they wouldn't mind pulling out of the salad bowl when Scarlet, designated driver Tseng in tow, had burst out through the doors spouting about Heideggar groping her too often.

Her blue eyes had alit on the two of them and her lips curled up. "Hey, get in the car. We're leaving."

They hadn't, in their narcotics daze, expected that she would drive them to the local strip club. At first they'd thought it was Tseng's idea, but he'd later said that she'd been passing the idea around the party and had finally decided just to drag him out with her. It was the first night Scarlet had ended up at Reno's apartment; their first taste of the self-accepted whore in the red dress.

. . .No, Reno thought, that wasn't quite it either.

It was definitely the fact that Scarlet had made it a point to make her way onto the stage unannounced that night, and every night since then.

He mentioned this to Rude and the bald man agreed. This was in no way saying she didn't put on an impressive show, let alone do it for fun and free, but they both had to admit it was more than a little odd that she wanted to do it at all. With all the rumors of her sleeping her way to the top -- she had neither denied nor accepted these -- of the company, Elena even thought she might want to keep up a professional face.

But this did make it a lot easier to accept, after trudging through knee-deep snow and zipping up his jacket, Reno was greeted from the back seat by the weapons specialist in a two-piece outfit that didn't even deserve the last word.

Reeve certainly didn't put out paperwork on this shit, just because, Reno had guessed for more than a few years, he was an asexual man with nothing worth compensating for.

As was habit, Reno's annoyance level went up as they drove. Rude quickly had to dismantle the radio, as the redhead kept tapping the knob to a level that was nowhere near street legal. "You don't know how much fucking work it is for me to put that back in!" Scarlet yelled each time, and every time Reno asked why she didn't just teach Rude how to manage his own car, she gave that he-doesn't-learn-well speech, Rude would yell, and they'd all end up in a mock-fight over nothing at all.

By now there was no charge at the door for anyone coming in with Scarlet the Starlet -- "See?" Reno'd said to a drinking buddy who had accompanied them one time. "She's here all the time." -- and so they just walked inside with waves at Butchie, the bouncer. What his name lacked in intimidation, his body picked up, but Reno could still drink him under the table.

Hell, Reno could drink anyone under the table.

Rude had been to nearly every strip club on the Planet, what with the fact his job had him travelling a lot but at the same time gave him a lot of time off, and he classified Flipsies somewhere in the mid-level of taste. Scarlet was probably the best looking girl that took to the stage -- not like there were any other real lookers besides the bartenders and waitresses -- but the decor made up for that. The lights were dim, but not irritatingly so, the music selection was decent, and their hardwood tables with leather booths were high quality.

The best was -- or had been -- the gold-bearing Midas Touch in Midgar's richest section, and the worst was probably in Kalm. Many couldn't believe that Kalm had a strip club, which was the thing; it was deep in the mine shafts.

The routine picked up as they got inside.

Scarlet just gave them that wave she did each Tuesday they came in and wove through the tables, small-talking the regulars until she got to the bookie. Of course her space was already reserved, but she would still pretend she had to fight to get it. As soon as she had reserved her space and signed herself in, she went to the dressing rooms to see if there were any new girls she could terrorize. With a "kya ha ha," she disappeared from the main floor.

Rude went straight to the bar, for his own reasons. He came here every Tuesday to see Leila, the bartender who'd agreed to go out with him once, this Winter Day. She was mildly attractive, admittedly, but Reno wouldn't have touched her just because blue hair wasn't his kind of thing and anyone with over fifteen facial piercing bothered him. That and they hated each other. Ordering a whisky sour, Rude's night of conversing with the girl whose face appeared to be a magnet began.

Reno's night was probably much more well known about these parts. Upon passing the bar, both his challengers for the night and his self-proclaimed fanclub swarmed around him. The others were either distracted by the show, didn't give a damn, or were debating whether or not to throw things at the man who had invaded their turf. He always took up the largest challenge first, just because it weeded out the wimps.

Within half an hour, Reno had downed four Lines at the request of the three usuals that came just to try and unseat him and one new kid who didn't make it through the second wave. The way a Line worked was this: four shots of Flipsies hardest liquor, three of the next hardest, two of the next, and one of the last. If you were still sitting by that tenth shot, you got free drinks for a week.

Not surprisingly, Reno had volunteered this. It was just a good thing Flipsies had gone with it.

Scarlet, Rude, and he did this every Tuesday. They had brought others back when it wasn't such a routine, but nothing had flown quite as well as it had when it was just the trio. They never stayed together anyway, so Reno thought the word routine was kind of a fucked up way to put it, but while halfway through his fifth Line, "fucked up" sounded like a pretty fascinating state to be in and he almost faltered in his shooting rhythm to ponder that.

'I wonder if cats can feel fucked up?' was the thought going through his mind when his current challenger pitched to the side and landed on his neck in a squinting, vomiting mess. When his friends cleared him up, the redhead was looking decidedly confused at the floorboards and wondering why cat food could taste so goddamned good to the human tongue yet wasn't on any restaurant menus. As the current stripper left the stage and Scarlet was announced as coming up, his mood had changed and he was giggling foolishly over the connection between cats and a certain strip club item.

He cast a glance to the bar and saw Magnet Woman was unoccupied by anyone but Rude -- the drunks all knew Scarlet was not one to miss -- and the two were locked deep in conversation. "Probably something about how much fuckin' polarity's in their ears," he mumbled, certifiably hammered by now. After sitting around hammered for a bit, a few more drinks would put him at smashed, which entailed raising his voice over the din and asking for obscure foods. A good two beers past smashed was plastered, when Rude and Scarlet had to tow him away from the at least three fights he would start and toss him on his porch. The words 'tipsy' and 'inebriated' were not states Reno was consciously in.

"I ain' got no drinkin' prob'm," the redhead had slurred at Tseng one night in the dark caverns beyond plastered. "Err'body else's jus' got a sobriety prob'm."

'That Rude is a character,' Reno's brain told him. 'He's the one with the sense; he's never told you to stop with the booze or the smokes. But that Yuffie. . .wowee. . .she does watch your ass an awful lot, though.'

His mind ventured over to the sparkles coming from the stage as the lights went down lower, his friend was introduced, and the old men got riled up. He watched the sparkles twirl and jump and slide and skip until half were draped over one man's ears and the other half landed in another's lap, and then he tried to find something else to occupy himself with. He decided to go to the bar for three reasons. One, there was nothing on the stage now that he hadn't seen, felt, and done else with. Two, he needed a few drinks to get smashed and call his night well-spent. And three, fucking with Rude's social life was his favorite pasttime.

Rude dated, and he enjoyed doing so. He'd found a few girls he'd gotten relatively serious with, but he was apparently too quiet. Understandable, said anyone including Rude himself. But the bald man wasn't about to be loud just to get a girlfriend.

Reno covered that.

He often sprang up on very nice dates and embarrassed the hell out of his best friend. It had become an understanding now, and was warned far in advance to anyone dating Rude that Reno could pop into the diner, knock red wine onto a white shirt, break a chair over the waiter's hip, and run out like nobody's business while screaming, "THE BALD GUY'S GOT A GUN!!" And it was the same thing as his silence; if a woman couldn't handle that, she certainly couldn't handle living in the house Reno frequented moreso than his own.

Leila was well aware of this by now and liked to get him away from her as quickly as possible. As said, they weren't the best of friends.

"Oh, hi, Reno. I see you forgot your safety helmet again." Rude had the nerve to grin at that, which didn't sit right with Reno at all. He was one of those best friends who thought he was entitled to his property, and said property included his mag-rod, cigarettes, Rude, and a few choice women.

Reno did not give up easily. "What's that? Sorry, I can't hear you over all that rattling; twist the thing in your nose, wouldja? I think the muffler's coming loose or something." He grinned widely -- in that hammered-aiming-for-smashed way -- at the way he face faulted when she tossed his usual bottle of brandy at him.

She tossed her hair over her shoulders, turning back to the bald man. "Reno, you really need to get on that plan again. I know you're skeptical, but the alphabet's actually very easy the way they do it on those tapes."

"Har dee fuckin' har," he growled, kicking back a respectable amount of liquor. "Hey, Rude, if you venture south and find what looks like a surgically-implanted beartrap, don't say I didn't warn you." When no witty retort came from her dropped jaw, he knocked down another dosage of brandy and walked back toward the stage. He paused and cocked his head to the side. "Huh," he murmured. "When'd she start the flaming baton shit?"

He did a double-take, then looked at the man standing next to him. "You say somethin' to me?"

"What?" The other was a bit liquored-up -- Reno didn't think he'd ever been in that state -- and more distracted than not.

Reno sniffed the air, for some unknown reason. No one cared, though; the starlet had just been tossed a beverage, and she wasn't drinking it. "Did you just tell me I shoulda left a note?"

"The hell you talkin' 'bout?" He trailed off and began migrating toward the stage.

The redhead looked for a culprit. He found none whose eyes weren't reflecting a perfectly good bloody mary going to waste in the rays of a spotlight. He glanced at the bottle of brandy in his hand and gave it a mission-control-we-have-smashed smirk. "Quick fuckin' with me, eh, buddy?"

Scarlet went on about her job for as long as she was allowed. Time had been kind of smearing together in a brilliant clash of flesh and booze and neon lights for Reno since he'd sneaked a drink out of a glass that was spiked with something definitely illegal. It probably wouldn't have done too much damage if he'd been somewhere in the hammered range, but he'd been more than a little plastered when he did it. Whatever else had been in that glass hadn't helped his condition.

So it was probably a good thing when his female companion, tucking her night's collections away in a large fur coat she'd been given by one of the onlookers, decided to stop when she passed by him. After all, Reno didn't sit in the corner and carry on conversations with pilfered urinal soaps every night, and when he did, it was time to get him home.

Rude reluctantly was pried away from the bar to help carry their friend out, after his emotional goodbye to the little pink disc. "At least we know his hands are sanitized," Scarlet cackled, but the bald man was less than pleased about being forced away from his nice seat at the club at 4:30 in the morning because she couldn't drive a stick. And they certainly had no radio, so he was forced to listen to her babble about the tips she'd made and how she kept repeating Reno would be fine in the morning.

Deciding he couldn't take another ten minutes of it, Rude dropped them both off at Reno's, fished the keys out of his pocket, and left in a hurry. He didn't want to be around when Reno was far past plastered, hallucinating, and Scarlet was feeling persuasive.

---

Author's Note: xD You don't know how fun it was to write that, trust me.


	4. Nine Eggs aCooking

**The Turks Christmas Special : Nine Eggs A-Cooking**

---

She was in Reno's house; that much she remembered. From previous visits, she also had slept here enough times to know her head was in one of his pillows. This was not the comfortable mattress, which meant she was in his bed. Her mind had not engaged far enough for her to remember that Rude's stuff was in the guest room, and so her automatic, nonchalant assumption was that they'd had sex. She was no longer bothered by the fact it wasn't a relationship; just casual sex. Friends with benefits, as the kids were calling it these days.

She sniffed.

There was something wrong. Something positively, severely incorrect; in all respects fucked up, if you will. Had she been awake for the night of urinal soaps, cat ramblings, and Lines, she would not have used the term mentally without laughing. She tried to pinpoint the problem without moving, as this bed was quite reassuring. Definitely the smell; the one smell that Yuffie hadn't been expecting when she woke up for the first time was that of sausage, and so there was something quite screwed up in Reno's house.

She dismissed it as a morning commercial on public television or something and drifted off.

Half an hour later, which seemed like the blink of an eye -- she hadn't even opened one yet -- she realized this notion was notoriously absurd, and not just because he had no television set, wondered if that was even a phrase she could use in this situation, and drifted off for another ten minutes. The thought of going to sleep again and leaving Reno to manage food for himself shot her out of bed, throwing on her AVALANCHE get-up, and hurling herself out of his room.

It was a good thing she had, said her jostled and irritated brain, because Reno'd fallen asleep as well. It didn't occur to her that on the couch away from the kitchen was a strange place to fall asleep, and shirtless and with his fly down was a bit under-dressed for the Turk this late in the morning. She was accurate there; it was just shy of 11:00. But it was certainly far too early to understand that the clothes laying on the floor around the couch weren't his, and if they were, Yuffie needed to have a talk about his sexual issues.

"Thanks, y'dope," she grumbled, tossing her eye-crust at him as she made her way to the kitchen. She needed water; her morning voice was a hellish thing.

"You're welcome, sunshine."

Yes, reasoned her quickly-awakening brain, there was something seriously fucked up in Reno's house. If the other half of her mind remembered correctly, her name was Scarlet, she was happily eating Reno's sausages, and she'd stolen Yuffie's silk robe.

The ninja searched for a way to greet her. Nothing came to mind. She then tried to reason a response to her pilfered robe. Nothing there either. At last was the hunt for a way to politely tell the blonde to leave. Stocked zero in that region, too. "Uhh. . ." was the only thing that came out, and it was enough to pry Scarlet's eyes from the gossip columns. She jolted quite high when she saw Yuffie, whose early-morning vocals had matched Reno's uncannily.

"Shit, kid, don't you knock when you come in?" she asked a second or two after her heart had returned to her chest. She made a quick job of folding the paper, wrapping the robe she was wearing tightly around her, and going back to the stove.

Yuffie glared at her back. Her mind was engaged and things were piecing themselves together now; she'd fallen asleep too quickly and Reno had gone out for dessert or something, was that it? "Yes. I knocked when I came in. That was yesterday morning. And that, though your sausage smells wonderful, is my robe."

The blonde thought nothing of it, apparently, but did seem a bit surprised about that last remark. "Oh, I'm sorry; I thought maybe he snagged this from a hit and thought it would make a good present for someone. Be a darling and watch these eggs while I go change?" She obviously didn't give a shit if Yuffie wanted to be a darling or not; she just up and left the kitchen.

The former AVALANCHEr heavily considered throwing the pan of eggs at her when she came back, then decided that she really did need a place to stay and messing with Reno's job was not the way to hang around longer. And she didn't know why she was getting pissed off about anything but the robe; Reno had mentioned that he and Scarlet had a relationship akin to their own. It was probably just the fact he'd not even taken into consideration the fact she was sleeping in his room.

"What can I say?" He'd laid back on the couch in that suave manner when he'd mentioned, during her last visit, "I'm just one irresistable son'bitch."

She snorted, flipping the eggs she was only watching because she expected a few on a plate of her own when they were done. She made sure to scramble three out of the six -- Reno's giant frying pan had been taken from a construction site he'd worked in in college -- to prove a point. "No," she told the pan. "You're just a perpetually pubescent man with too much drawing power for your own good."

". . .Then you won't make me two pieces of toast while you're there?"

Yuffie surprised herself; she was becoming more and more like Reno every day she stayed here. After all, it only took half a second of debate before she spun around and threw the spatula at him. Her accuracy was improving, though, said his forehead.

Reno dropped like a fly, gripping his head so hard that his brain hurt, and gave out a low "Ooooooww." That was followed by the more characteristic, louder, "FUCK!" as he realized just what had happened to him. "Dammit, Yuffie, what the hell was that?!"

"Why is that whore wearing my robe?!" she countered, and he looked positively baffled.

As if cued, Scarlet walked into the kitchen in the suit she'd brought in the car. She tossed the robe onto the couch and cackled. "This is great! I didn't even get an invitation to the wedding and I'm already catching the end of the honeymoon!" She seemed much more amused than the two of them, and rightfully so; she knew how it must look.

Reno's forehead was starting to bleed. One of the corners must have nicked him just right. "Scarlet, what the hell happened last night?"

"Reno, shut up. You, too, ninja; throw anything at me and I'll shoot you." She pulled a chair out from the table and sat down again. "Someone slipped you something at the club last night, Reno; I found you talking to a bar of soap. Rude brought you back, I stayed to make sure you didn't keel over on us. You peeled off everything but your pants, took a piss, and collapsed on the couch. I had shit all over me, so I took a shower, put the girl's robe on because I didn't want to wear this all night, tossed the rest of the clothes at Reno trying to wake him up, failed, and made myself at home in the guest room. Sun came up, I got tired of reading the articles in Rude's tittie mags, so I came out and decided to make you breakfast. Fucking hell, you're the two most ungrateful people I've ever met." She lit up a cigarette. "Pop some toast in while you're close, huh?"

Reno fixed his houseguest with a stern look and helped himself to a cigarette he felt he was entitled to.

Yuffie's face took on a shade something like Schmidt's hat and she quietly gnawed her fingernails down.

And so were things at Reno's house.

---

There are times a pair that have been together for an extensive amount of time can simply stare at each other and have a conversation that way. Despite Yuffie's hyperactivity and Reno's earlier blow to the head and drug dosage, they were doing it right now, at the counter of an expensive clothing store.

They'd found a cigarette burn in the Wutain robe and Scarlet had decided to buy her another one out of pure generosity. After suffering barrages of "You know what that word means?" and the like from the redhead, she'd been defended by the ninja who felt obligated to do such because of that morning's misunderstanding and the fact she was about to go blow eight-hundred gil on imported fabrics and customizations. There was a brief period of Reno irately saying she should just go stay with Scarlet for the time, and when Scarlet had said Reno could have full custody of their daughter, Yuffie had stopped defending both of them and gone to change. Reno had just made himself a morning margarita and called it good. The blonde had won the fight, and that was good enough for her.

But now they were doing that silent communication, and it was driving her fucking nuts.

As she got her check book out, Yuffie rolled her eyes and shoved Reno toward the counter, where the replica robe laid. 'For fuck's sake, Reno, be nice and offer payment!'

He held his hands up in defense, then stepped back and made a sweeping motion at the counter. 'Does it really look like I carry that much cash on me? You pay for it if it's so cheap'!

She slapped her hips and crossed her arms, nose in the air. 'Like I brought any cash from Wutai? Besides, I think you ashed on it anyway.'

His jaw dropped. 'You're a fucking princess!'

Yuffie put her hand above her head and shook it. 'You seem to think Godo supplies me with shopping money.'

The redhead flipped her off and walked out of the clothing store. 'Fuck you; I'll be in the car.'

The woman behind the desk offer a reassuring pat on Scarlet's back. The red-suited woman was sprawled over the counter, check in her outstretched hand. The woman leaned down to her ear as Yuffie stomped around mumbling. "Newlyweds you forgot to buy a present?"

After she recovered from wondering how this woman didn't recognize the three of them, Scarlet got off of the counter and raised her voice to a level Yuffie could surely hear, as well as most of the people around them. "Oh, no, they're not even dating officially."

Yuffie ignored everyone around them for a moment. "I'd rather kill myself than shack up with that fucking jerk!"

Scarlet, however, used the publicity to her own advantage. "Funny, shacking up and fucking are two things you two seem to do just fine. Huh."

Within half an hour of their leaving the store, Yuffie in a murderous rage and Scarlet cackling so loudly that even the ignorant clerk knew who she was, the tabloid reporter in the store shopping for his wife's birthday had the story all written up and sent off. Yuffie Kisaragi, tragic suicidal in denial of her relationship with stingy, abusive Reno Drannor whose main goal was sex, their fights fueled by Scarlet Chassity, who was more than likely having a steamy side relationship with Reno. Needless to say, it reached Godo relatively quickly and he put out a bounty on Reno, who was surely the father of Yuffie's child, said the magazine.

When the tabloids ran that story, the bounty was retracted because everyone knew he was bullshitting them, the bounty-master got hold of that unreliable article and called it unethical, and everything was legally-perfect-yet-emotionally-twisted in Wutai. So said the same tabloids, anyway.

Funny, the way things happen. Also funny, the fact that none of that could have.

Because it just wouldn't be an Official Yuffie Kisaragi Visit if something didn't fuck itself over, and this time it was Yuffie herself.


	5. Eight Cards aDealing

**The Turks Christmas Special : Eight Cards A-Dealing**

---

Scarlet excused herself after dinner that night -- Reno ate early; always had -- mentioning she had a real date to go on. She made a passing comment about seeing them at the company party in five days, and when the Turk looked disapprovingly at her, she disappeared out into the falling snow. Reno let it slide because that was just the way he did things.

Yuffie was admiring her robe and shuffling a deck of cards. They had found that Black Jack was a game neither one had any distaste toward, and that it often passed the time when she came to visit. "So," said the ninja. "Company party?" That morning had been forgotten, as most things were. As much as they bickered like children, they got along in a way no one had with Reno before. Except maybe for Rude, and he didn't exactly count as a person as far as most were concerned.

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled. "There's a company party for this shit holiday every year. They always expect me to show. I generally do so, fuck something up, and go home a little bit happier to more alcohol and reruns of classic Winter Day movies. It's a tradeoff, I say," he explained, sinking off of the couch. She was across the table from him, both on his comfortable carpet.

"And you've got me to come back to this year!" she announced loudly, throwing her arms up.

Reno shook his head slowly. "Deal the cards and I'll pretend you didn't just do that, 'kay?"

There was a brief pause, and then she asked, "So when you wanna go out and take me shopping?" She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see a fireplace, but it was just the wall that was home to many ShinRa pictures. Reno's house was the kind that needed a fireplace; emerald green rugs in winter just constituted a fireplace or something.

"Whenever." Reno had found himself in his usual niche; a relaxed state that made him feel like he was in no rush to do things. "Hell, I might just pass you off to Elena and go get sloshed with Rude sometime. She at least enjoys being dragged around to look at swimsuits in the dead of fucking winter."

Yuffie pointed out, as she dealt the cards, "That's because she's usually set up in Costa. And what is she, your babysitter?"

"Does Nanny Elly not have a certain ring to it?" He'd called her that one time and she had looked confused, angered, and stressed all at once. That last one probably had something to do with the fact she had her gun against an old man's forehead and didn't appreciate the fact said man was now laughing at her, but Reno had never been one to pay attention to details. "Or maybe I can dump you at Scarlet's. She's supposed to get you on the weekends, right?"

She made a face at him. "Har dee har."

"Actually, I think Rude mentioned an addition onto his gun he needs to get done in Wutai. And I know how much you love that danger aspect; passing casually right under the radar, shit like that." He checked his cards. Thirteen. "Hit me."

She tossed him a card with the wrist of a born dealer, then laughed nervously. "Probably not a good idea for you to go wandering around Wutai, Turkey."

Seventeen. "I'll stand." He took a drink of the water on the table; it was too damn late to be drinking the hard stuff. "And why don't I want to go wandering around your shit town, may I ask?" He didn't much care either way; Wutai would always be there, Godo or not.

"I. . .uhh. . .kindatoldDadyou'rethefather." She flipped over her cards with a wide grin. "Dealer has twenty."

The Turk prided himself in being able to understand fast-spoken female mutter, especially the ninja's, and his face screwed itself up. He was more than happy to harbor a runaway minor who said she was pregnant and shirked her royal duties. That was no problem as long as he got retribution, which he definitely did, in a few ways. But there was a certain line Reno Drannor did not like to cross, and that was taking responsibility for said minor, especially one this large. "And why the hell did my name pop into this?" He slid his three cards back toward her.

"Oh, come on, Reno," she admonished. "He knows that I hide out here -- who knows why he hasn't come to shoot us both, really -- and I'm sure he's guessed that we've, y'know. . .been together. Your name was the first to co --"

"Isn't there some law against that kind of stuff?" Reno didn't need to be seen as a father, nor one with responsibilities. He was a Turk, dammit. "Statutory rape or something?"

Yuffie actually looked offended. "I've been eighteen for three months, thank you!"

'So I really have been nailing a minor. Perfect.' Reno was really debating whether or not it was too late to start drinking again. He couldn't smoke still, and there was nothing to chew on.

"Like I said," she continued, "your name was the obvious choice. And I was probably focused on coming over, so it was on my mind during the fight. I'm just saying, you can either stay out of Wutai or you can get your head whacked off. I don't suppose that second one's in either of our favors, so. . ."

Reno held up a finger. "There is the fact I'm supposedly the father of the unborn child of Yuffie fuckin' Kisaragi. This legally binds me to you and the child -- which doesn't even exist -- and puts me in an unemployed state once it reaches Reeve. A Turk can't be silent if he's wearing a goddamn baby pager, and even though this is bullshit, he doesn't want any walking on thin ice in his company. There is where the bastard has a point. Lies or not, there's the possibility of a family crisis and he won't hesitate to boot my ass out the door and into the unemployment center. Head coming off eliminates many problems, as far as I can tell."

"I don't think I'm clear enough for you, Reno," she said slowly. "This isn't some. . ." She reconsidered her wording, then threw up her hands. "Look, he'll have you at the hands of a rifle squad at dawn in a heartbeat!"

The redhead's mind did the first smart thing since every action after conversing with a urinal soap, and that was to slow itself down and be logical about this. "Okay," he sighed. "Can we talk about this in the morning? Holy, Scarlet would tire Heideggar out if he went shopping with her." His feet still hurt. "I'll even get up and cook a decent breakfast tomorrow. I just can't process all this shit without alcohol."

She grinned slightly. "Yeah, that'd be better. I'm gettin' tired anyway," she added, stretching and yawning loudly.

Reno had to admit, she looked as good as she always had, which was saying a lot. He wondered where her stance with him was. Friend with benefits? Nah; there was definitely something more between them. It could have probably turned into a relationship, he reasoned, if she weren't so far away and they didn't feel the need to pretend they hated each other. But there was definitely something between them that put them on a level higher than friends with benefits. . .which wasn't to say, in layman's terms, that they weren't.

"Yeah, me, too." The yawn caught on and he stood up. "You keep me from turning into Rude, y'know. I think that guy just didn't have anybody to talk to for too fucking long."

She didn't reply to this. They just found their way, more tired than they had thought, into their spots on his bed. Anyone else would have guessed they'd been together for years, the way they fell into place. Not newlywed-clutchingly close, but close enough to be uncomfortable for people who were just friends. On a one-person mattress, their sleeping positions went as so: Yuffie looking as if she intended to just mind her own business, but with Reno's arm slung over her hip and his chin on her shoulder. She would have to compliment him on his comforter; quite warm, and it matched the carpet.

"Reno?" she asked after a while.

"Mrrgh?" She knew the word 'what?' when it was muttered against her shoulder by now. It was all he ever replied with when he was half-asleep.

She smirked. "I was just wondering. . .you ever had a kid?"

There was a moment of silence. Truthfully, Reno was still out of it and thought he'd answered right away, but he drifted off for just long enough to make it an awkward silence. "Nope," he said after lifting his mouth. "Don't intend to, either. Kids piss me off, and women who have 'em only suck the father's money right out of his fucking pocket. Tseng had a kid once," he yawned. "Said until the day he died that it never bettered him emotionally. Bitch that had it always wanted child support; never met her, myself." He paused. "You?"

The question wasn't totally psychotic. She had the looks to have every man in Wutai wanting to be her child's father. "Nah," she said confidently. "I thought about it once; thought it might get me out of my duties like I'm doing now. Didn't know who to pick as the father, though, and besides, I'm a woman of the wild. Sure as hell aren't any dangerous stroller paths up into Da-Chao, right?"

He was too far gone to be paying any real attention. Instead, he replied, "Y'know. . .yer not too bad, kid. . .yer gonna go places. . ."

Yuffie was silent for a long while, watching the minutes tick by on his digital alarm clock. "Hey, Re?" she asked quietly. For the first time in maybe three years, her voice was as old as she was. But he didn't say anything. He was already asleep. Her fingers found their way into his hand and both hands found their way to her stomach.

She would tell him tomorrow; hell, she would have to. Sooner or later, Godo would start wondering where his daughter had gone, and why. Reno certainly hadn't figured out he was the one being bullshitted yet. There had been no fight; no saying she was pregnant and running out in a fury. No, she'd just packed her bags one night, kissed her sleeping father goodbye, and left for Midgar with a story all thought up. A lie, a fight, the usual after-effects, winding up with her in Reno's house looking for safety.

She sighed and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep to the rhythm of his breath.

Tomorrow.

She would tell him tomorrow.

---

**Author's Note**: Oooh. Something serious just happened.


	6. Seven Gangs aLosing

The Turks Christmas Special : Seven Gangs A-Losing

---

It was so goddamn cold. No one had mentioned it would be cold, or he would have put something on over the suit.

_Where am I. . .?_

He remembered the place vaguely, but it didn't look like it was supposed to. This was definitely the Temple of the Ancients, but things were. . .different. Besides the fact it was freezing, there was snow everywhere. He couldn't see anything but a blanket of white with a door. Just snow -- probably why it was cold, but it never snowed here; this was the zone of no climate or something, right? -- and a door leading inside.

He started for the door, legs moving against his will, and noticed the weight in his left hand. He tried to look down, but this neck was not his own.

_What the. . .?_

Suddenly, he was inside. Too fast to have actually happened. This was the temple he recognized -- but it had been destroyed by AVALANCHE, hadn't it?

_What's going on?_

Sure it had. That was a definite. Then why was he here? Where was here, some alternate universe? His head swiveled down to check his watch and a familiar voice said, echoing off the walls, "Rufus should be calling me soon. Where is he?"

_No. . ._

In the watch's silver surface was a face, but it wasn't his. It was the face of a Wutain man with long, black hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Keystone in his left hand. So that was what was weighing it down.

_ I can't be. . .  
_

_ Not there. . .  
_

_ . . .not then.  
_

He pulled a hand through his raven-colored hair and turned round to inspect the area. There he was. The legend with the silver hair, the sleek black SOLDIER uniform, the Mako eyes that were said to burn holes right through walls. The sword.

_ Not him.  
_

_ God, please, not him.  
_

The sword that had met President ShinRa's spine, the sword that had felled Nibelheim, the sword that had nearly killed that Lockheart girl, the sword that had fought a war and would now begin another. It was amazing that one blade could hold so much significance, but this one did so tenfold, at the very least. And there was that smile. That "your time is now" smile.

_ Run.  
_

_ For the love of fuck, run!  
_

But his legs refused to move, though there was resistance. This was not his body; his body had left him in this immobile shell. And now Sephiroth was advancing on him, murmuring a song as he readied his blade for the one swing it would take.

"Mother, Mother, where have you gone?" he sang, a children's song turned horribly wrong. "You never came home, and Dad's on the lawn. The trail on the stairs leads up to your room. And there, still, you lay, impaled on a broom." His smile widened, and then he narrowed his lips, reaching a strange, hypnotizing note. "Ooooooh, no, Papa's not coming home.."

_ Run.  
_

_ If you can move any muscle at all, you will turn and run away!  
_

_ **NOW**!  
_

He finally moved, turning and trying to run into the temple. But the other was too close, and all there was was the distinct feeling of a pane of glass breaking in his chest. His breath refused to come, and a life that wasn't his flashed before his eyes. Wutai; girls in uniform skirts; boys in blazers with wheatfield hair; the war; the first job; the acceptance as a Turk; his companions; his death.

---

Reno awoke with a start and clutched at his chest. This wasn't the first time this had happened; he always wanted it to be a heart attack that would give him that nightmare and kill him in the night.

He looked around and tried to regain some sense of security. He didn't like to admit weakness -- what good Turk did, after all? -- but that dream had a good habit of scaring the living hell out of him. Yuffie was laying next to him. Good. That was natural; just the way he'd seen it last. This was his room; these were his pillows; that was his piss-shade wall color. His pants were still on. Good; that was the way it usually was. He checked the clock. 7:48. Good a time as any to start drinking, said his mind.

There was a loud, impatient knock at the front door.

Definitely not routine. If anyone wanted anything from him this early, it was either one of those religious freaks or it was a dire emergency. The knock sounded again, this time with the doorbell as well, and the possibilities spawned by his nightmare overflow that came to mind were not good. He carefully rolled himself out of bed, threw on his blazer, and opened the door. Across the living room, in the window of the screen door, was a man low on his list of expected guests.

"Reeve?" he asked the man. When there was no response, he figured out he was still across the room and behind two doors, and decided to remedy the situation by crossing the former and opening the latter. He tried again. "Reeve?"

"Reno," he replied hurriedly. He was prepared for the weather in that businessman way. Nice black overcoat and leather driving gloves. His SUV in the driveway set him at cliché level. "Reno, we need to talk. Something's going on, and you're not gonna like it at all."

He snapped his fingers. "Shit, Scarlet the Starlet's retiring?"

Reeve's face hardened. "Reno!" he scolded. "C'mon, just come to breakfast with me. We can talk in the café. I'll even pick up the tab."

There was a system to things in ShinRa, and Reno was very familiar with it. President Reeve -- that title still sounded strange -- never paid for anything unless he was desperate to have someone else come with him or he was doing it as a favor to a business partner. Reno sure as hell wasn't a business partner, so something must have happened. "Yeah, alright. Just let me see if. . .you mind if we have company?"

"It's probably better if it's just the two of us and the people we're meeting." He smiled in that fatherly way he always did; despite being a bit anal about things, he was a good guy deep down, Reno had to admit. "Why, is Scarlet here or something?"

Reno thought of how to answer that. If he said yes, then Reeve would want her to come because she was the logical one and would probably have an answer to. . .whatever was going on. If he said no, it was Yuffie Kisaragi of AVALANCHE, Reeve might think he was slipping and not trust him nearly as much. He'd managed to go two years without blowing that cover. He debated saying Rude, but if this was serious enough for the Turks, he had probably already been found. Instead, he cracked a Reno Drannor grin and passed it off as, "A third-floor secretary. Picked her up at a bar last night. I'll just tell her to take off when she wakes up if I'm not here."

Reeve mumbled something in response and went back out to his large black vehicle. Reno made his way into the bedroom, threw on a shirt under the blazer, and feebly tied his hair back. He jotted a quick note on her forearm -- he'd done this to enough sleeping companions to not wake her up -- that might come off with a few washes. In that early-morning excitement, he attempted to slide out of his bedroom, hit the doorjamb, and fell flat on his ass.

He debated not standing up, for a moment. He considered just laying there until Reeve came in to find him, then he could make up some boldface lie story about being pitched out of the room by the strongest receptionist in ShinRa. He would wrap it up with some wise-crack about how handy that was in the sack. When this great arrival of Reeve was just his horn blaring, Reno decided to scrap the idea, pick himself up, and walk outside.

The ride to the café was quiet; almost tense in a way. Something was obviously getting on Reeve's nerves, and even Reno knew that wasn't a time to make wise-ass comments. They rounded the block twice once the place was in sight, which was a silent signal for Reno to grip his gun. He hadn't even thought of picking it up; it was just habit by now. "What is this place?" he asked cautiously, as if his voice would trigger some explosive.

"Café Faust," said Reeve, parking the car a few doors down from the small, empty-looking diner. "President ShinRa bought it for Rufus as a birthday present when he was fourteen, but the kid never got out of the building for long enough to have a meal here. So I found the title and signed it over to myself." He put the car in park and composed himself, straightening his collar and lighting up a cigarette. Reno ventured a guess that he'd never seen Reeve look as old as he did right now; something was seriously screwed up. "While we're on that subject, you're now full owner of the Turk bar in Junon. Rude doesn't want a bit of it in case he has to go into hiding. It's yours for your wishes."

Responsibility being handed to him? Reno gripped his gun tightly and got out of Reeve's transportation. They walked casually to the café, which Reeve unlocked with a key from his pocket, and held the door open for Reno.

Had the redhead not immediately seen Rude sitting at one of the tables sipping orange juice and flipping through a file, he might have opened fire. That was probably because roughly thirteen guns were aimed toward him, which were dropped when Reeve walked in behind him, locking the door as he went. With a quick scan around, he realized he knew all these faces on a first name basis; they were the leaders and major representatives of all the prosperous gangs in the slums. He recognized one especially; Johnny C., his old employer.

They saluted each other out of long-aged habit and Reno took his seat with Rude.

"Order what you'd like, Reno. We may be here for a while." The offer was from Reeve, and Reno decided he'd be picking up the tab. He ordered the number three without any idea of what it was and then things started to get more interesting. "As you can all see, I've finally decided to bring my associate Reno Drannor into our meetings. Johnny, I know you two are quite acquainted, as are a few others. Most of you here can see that this is a much larger group than usual. There is indeed a reason for this. Johnny, would you please tell Reno about us while I get something to drink?"

Reeve walked toward the back and Johnny stood up. He looked as he always had to Reno; hair as red as a match tip, tattered leather jacket and army knockoff pants, and wrap-around sunglasses. He was chewing a cigarette filter furiously. "Reno, you and I go way back, right?"

The other redhead nodded, eyebrows scrunched together. "Yeah. . .a good fifteen years or so."

"Right." Johnny raked a hand through his hair as a few other people began talking about random things. This was all habit for them. "Reeve's had this little group going since he signed the place to himself, called Operation Big Brother. Us, the thirteen most powerful slum-dwelling gangsters --" There were a few excited crows at this. "-- are bringing ShinRa information about crime rates as long as we get professional protection, mainly from Rude here. We meet every weekend to exchange what needs to be exchanged, talk about what needs to be said, and shit to that effect. The only reason you weren't inside earlier is because Rude thought there might be a bit of bad blood between the two of us, but 'sall cool now. It's usually just Reeve and a few of us, but. . .well, he'll tell you about what went down last night."

Johnny and Reno had been through their fair share of fights in their day. It had gotten so nasty that Johnny had eventually knocked Reno out with a steel door and kicked him out of their mock base. To spite him, Reno joined up with a rival gang, Beelzebub. It was there that he met Tseng, who came to be known as a spy for ShinRa, and just after he was pulled out and made a Turk, nearly the entire gang was wiped out in a night raid. Since then, Johnny and Reno had seen eye to eye.

"How many would you reckon you lost last night, Jarvis?" Reeve had come back with a glass of water and was now leaning against a table casually, even as Reno tried to wrap his head around the entire situation.

Jarvis, a lanky black man who ranked right up with Leila in facial piercings and had a ridiculous amount of tattoos, tipped his head back to think. "We ticked three stiffs, but there's still a chance some of our MIAs got clipped." He nodded across the table to a bald white man in a trench coat who wore enough rings to make shaking hands with him a task in itself. "And I think, night before last, M-Dogg lost five outta his little army." This supposed M-Dogg nodded in affirmation and sipped his brandy.

"It's Winter Day season," came the notice from a fat man wearing a dog collar and tags in the corner. "The night before MD's loss, our whole kennel went down. Nobody'd expect a holiday serial killer, right?"

Reeve held his hand up, calling for order. "Poor Reno is being confused into a stupor. Reno, for the past week, major gangs have been losing members like nobody's business, and it's showing a trend. No one else notable's been killed except them, and whoever this is, he or she makes it look extremely easy. In and out in ten minutes, obviously knows the guard shifts."

"How does this involve me?" he asked. That was all he really wanted to know. He didn't want to be sent on some fucking hunt while Yuffie was there. Besides, this was his precious time off.

Rude signaled to Reeve that he would handle it, and the goateed man nodded his thanks, bringing the others' attention toward him as he began discussing security beefing.

"Reno," his bald friend said calmly, "this is serious. They're making their way from least threatening to most, and at the top of the list has to be ShinRa; they've left clues that they know about the Operation. The way this looks is," he said as he slid a few corpse photos toward Reno, "that we're dealing with a samurai wannabe. Now I've looked at the rate of travel, and this sets ShinRa as getting hit in four days, the night of the company party. And what better place to do it than. . ."

"The ballroom?" Rude nodded. Now this was something, said the side of Reno's mind that didn't constantly tell him to get drunk and shoot himself in the foot for shits and giggles. The party was always held in the ballroom and there was always someone dancing. With the staff of ShinRa, there would be no shortage of targets, or killers for that matter. They just didn't have the strings to pull for legitimate security within two days, though, and Reno knew this. He voiced this to Rude, who replied by saying this was exactly what their problem was.

"That's why this involves you. As Turks, we're obviously the biggest threat to any serial killer and probably won't fail to be high on their list of targets. As much as I'd love to indulge your ritual of fucking something up and going home from this party, I'm actually begging you to stay and keep an eye on Elena. I'm going to have my hands full with Reeve as is; Scarlet can be informed and she'll handle herself." Anyone else would have been shocked at Rude speaking so much, but Reno was used to it. What could he say, the guy just didn't like crowds.

"What's in it for me?" If someone had been asking for help and had the plague, that would still have been his first question. He was just that kind of a person. That and he didn't much consider a serial killer any type of match for Laney. His physical reaction to her was just to keep her just below the bar and keep her reaching to better herself, but he knew she was one tough girl when needed.

Rude sighed and ground his teeth together for a moment. "Reno, if you go to the party with Elena and watch her for the night. . .I'll pay off your Icicle Inn bar tab." He winced just saying it. That tab was legendary, dubbed as The Tab of Death by people who didn't even know him. The total sum was written on a large banner on the wall with a name and address to accompany it.

When someone called Reno's tab legendary, it was generally because the thing could, when printed, wrap around the equator six times with enough extra to wipe a naval fleet's ass. But this tab was different; though it was pretty big, it had just pissed the bartender, some surfboarder and snowboarder named Mukki -- he said he had some connection to Don Corneo, which worried the Turks a bit -- off to a surprising extent. Reno had actually been chased out of the town and a legal ban put on him until the tab was paid off, and he really did like that place.

Reno smirked. "You've got a deal."

"Rude?" came Reeve's voice. He held up his thumb and gave a questioning look, and Reno was suddenly aware of the fact that the other conversation was very loud and punctuated by laughs. That was to be expected from gang members, though. They were all fun-loving people beneath the killing and whatnot. Rude returned the gesture, which Reno knew was over his participation, and Reeve closed their meeting. Rude hurried out, and most of the men went with him. Reeve disappeared to the back.

Reno debated whether he should complain about not getting his "number three" or not. He decided on the latter when he saw Johnny sauntering his way, flashing him a grin. "Red, man, you wanna go someplace real and get a bite to eat?"

"What's the occasion?" the other asked. He and Johnny, despite their fights, had made up considerably well and since then had always been nice when they caught each other sneaking around.

Johnny shrugged. "Ain't seen you in a while. Just wonderin' if you wanted to get somethin' to chow down on and catch up a bit. No gun under the table aimed at your dick this time, I swear." They both grinned. That had been one rough night for Jay's Pub and Grill. "Just pay half the tab and we're in business. What else you really gotta do today?"

The Turk thought about this, and actually had an answer for once. It surprised him that Yuffie's name came up so quickly; normally she was just someone to have around, maybe he would sometimes even go so far as to call her a distraction, but he truly cared for the brat now. He debated the pros and cons of going back and picking her up. The pros were along the lines of a third wheel so he didn't feel so nervous around Johnny, the other person to back up his sarcastic remarks, and the fact he would have finally done something with her.

His brain piped up again, mentioning how he actually was acting like a weekend father or some bullshit.

The cons, the other half of his mind threatened the distraction, were that he would have to drag her out of bed and that would make the rest of his day hell. Plus he might have to take her shopping later. On the other hand, there were endless, embarrassing opportunities if she did come along.

He looked Johnny up and down and his lips quirked up again. "Help me drag somebody out of bed and we've got a date."


	7. Six Planes aFlying

The Turks Christmas Special : Six Planes A-Flying ---

Yuffie was prepared for it this morning.

She'd just been waking up when she heard the doorknob turn, and was quickly sitting upright, .45 pointed at a redhead whose bed she wasn't sitting in.

. . .Since when did she have a gun?

The way she tossed the gun down on the bed and stared at it must have been extremely funny, because the man in the doorway burst out laughing and glanced over his shoulder. "Dude, who in their right mind sleeps with a gun under their pillow?"

A more comforting shock of red hair appeared over his shoulder, then he whacked his companion on the back of the head. "A smart Turk, so bite me. You ready to go for breakfast, babe? Johnny's got half the tab."

Yuffie's eye twitched.

She was getting more and more used to waking up this way.

---

After she'd gotten dressed and Johnny and she had been introduced, Reno drove them to a retro place called DJ's. He said it was where he'd taken Elena on her first day as a Turk, and he wasn't lying; the dark look from the woman behind the counter said they'd met.

Johnny proved himself to have never changed. He ordered a breakfast steak -- he was picking up half the bill, otherwise Reno would have protested -- and demanded it be rare. When their order came, they'd forgotten to give him a knife. Instead of going to ask for one, he just continued his conversation with Reno about the dos and don'ts of barfights and flipped out his switchblade to cut it. Reno was horribly amused, but Yuffie looked a bit disturbed.

"Don't tell me your parents taught you that," she commented around a bite of her large plate of scrambled eggs.

Now it was Johnny's turn to look like something was terribly funny. "Parents, eh? People like Red'n me weren't. . .privileged. . .enough to have parents. I suppose bein' Godo's daughter an' all doesn't leave you much imagination to know what that's like, but. . .well, Red'n me, we're brothers in a sense. We didn't have nobody but the gang, y'know what I mean?"

She nodded. She really did know what that felt like; it felt like AVALANCHE. She'd been damn close to Tifa, to the point where they were practically sisters. It wasn't like that so much these days, just because they'd faded apart. Tifa ran the bar full-time and Yuffie was doing menial tasks for her father. There just wasn't as much time to do what they wanted anymore.

Even heroes have to make a salary.

"So what sparked this strange meeting, then?"

Reno's bacon lodged somewhere in his throat and he doubled over onto the table, narrowly missing the salt shaker with his forehead. Johnny smirked at him, taking this in stride. "Red was headed to get the paper and I saw 'im on my way to the gas station. Pulled a knife on 'im and scared the fuckin' hell out of 'is scrawny ass, as you can see." He grabbed Reno's ponytail and yanked him back into his chair. "As for why I'm callin'im Red. . .old gang thing, y'dig?"

"Yeah, I dig." She dragged out that last word with a small grin and took another bite.

The Turk composed himself and made sure all of the bacon was out of his throat before he did anything else. Yuffie couldn't know about the Operation, that was a given. Unless the order came from Reeve's mouth, the loop had to be closed; and if it was known Yuffie was staying there. . .well, he'd been through that mental track already. "So how's the old crew, Johnny? Every time I run into you, I space on that."

Johnny thought for a moment. "Well, the raid kicked most o' the buckets. After that. . .Yezz died. I tell y'that?" Reno shook his head, looking puzzled. Yezz had been his best friend in that gang. She was as cocky as he was, treated him kind of like he treated Elena these days, and she had the muscle to back both of those up. "Yeah," Johnny continued, "I guess she had some terminal illness shit. I thought somebody'd capped her, but she told me at the end. Other'n that. . .we had 'bout five originals after the raid, and the rest're still 'round. Maybe a bit old, but ain't we all?"

Reno nodded, and he wouldn't have if he didn't agree. Shit, he was going to be twenty-seven soon, and Rude had just turned twenty-six as well, which meant Johnny was thirty-two. Weren't they supposed to be married with comfortable desk jobs at some twisted law firm or something, preparing for their midlife crisises? Instead, Johnny was killing people over stupid feuds and Reno was. . .well, he was doing the exact same thing, just with a suit. Yuffie was going somewhere, at least. She was going to be the queen of a very successful port city, die bathed in fine jewels with ten bodyguards, and live an afterlife as the greatest goddamn thing to hit the Lifestream.

He wondered briefly which one of them would get there first, then decided it would have to be him. He smoked like a fucking chimney, he was always getting shot at, and his liver already hated him enough to put a bounty on his brainstem. And if one of those didn't do him in, Rude would probably end up shooting him for complaining so much.

"Hey, Reno." Yuffie broke him out of his train of thought; he was pretty sure he looked like he was going to start talking to his plate, and he'd had his fair share of conversations with inanimate objects lately. "Tell Johnny how you're quitting smoking?"

Or maybe she would irritate him to death.

---

Rude was rich.

One might think that, sure, he was a Turk and he had to have an ample amount of money somewhere. But that would be a lie; his actual worth was fucking phenomenal, which was the only way to put it. His father, while in the war on ShinRa's side, had managed to obtain secret documents from Wutai on how to build tanks. Instead of being an idiot and yelling it out, he built them secretly and sold them to ShinRa once they were losing for three times what they were worth. When he was killed, the gratitude from the company came in massive sums of gil to the family's bank account.

When Rude was twenty-two, his mother died of breast cancer and the entire estate was transferred into his name.

Anyone would ask at this point just how much he had from his father's tanks, the thank-you money, his mother's savings, and his Turk money put together.

The best way to look at a statistic like that is in a list. ShinRa took a poll of the richest men, women, and people on the Planet every two years, but they always looked at big businesspeople, and so the leader has been the owner of ShinRa from the beginning of the surveys. The leading female, seeing as how the president had no wife to share his assets with, was bounced between two of the owners of their Junon branch until it was wiped out by the WEAPON, and then it was Scarlet, though she wasn't worth much compared to Reeve with his corporate inheritance.

But no one ever thought to ask Turks how much they had, because they were always envisioned as slobs who had nothing to live for; which, coincidentally, is exactly how Rude spent the money he felt like spending at any given time. Like he had absolutely nothing to look forward tomorrow; a true Turk standpoint.

So if Turks were factored into the list, Rude would have been the third richest being on the face of the Planet, and Reno would take that spot eventually, as all of the younger Turk's estate was in his will to the redhead. He would have, if on the list, been one above Scarlet and behind Godo and Reeve, respectively. Elena would be somewhere in the top twenty, but her Turk earnings hadn't been snowballing nearly as long; Reno as he was wouldn't even be on the list, just because he spent it all as fast as he got it. Besides, Rude was happy to lend him thousands of gil at a time.

But no one ever thought to ask, and it certainly wasn't Rude-esque to speak up.

The whole point was that, on the island he owned, Rude had two commercial jets and countless four-seater helicopters and two-seater planes for general use, as well as a few dozen cars for covert Turk jobs. Reno was pretty sure he had a few boats, but the bald man was afraid of water, so he didn't pay much attention to that part.

And so he was more than happy to, when Yuffie and Reno discovered they didn't have much else to do that day, fly them to Wutai. It was fun for the ninja, disguised as a very convincing teenage boy, as she watched the slush-and-ice mix that meant Midgar snow disappear beneath them, saw the vast Kalm Plains covered in the stuff -- it was probably more beautiful than Wutai in winter, just for its simplicity. But it was no longer fun when she realized this meant they were in the air and they sure as hell weren't on a giant, moving platform connected to the ground. Add onto that the fact Rude thought he was a fighter helicopter pilot, and she sank down into her seat with the knowledge that this would be a very hectic trip.

Rude had gone all-out with this chopper. The most comfortable seats he could find, a drink mixer -- if anyone felt risky enough to make one while he was flying -- in the console, a stereo system one could only expect from the big man, and headsets that ran on vibrations. No matter how quietly you spoke, the other person could hear you clearly. Often Rude would have entire conversations with someone in the passenger's seat without someone in the back knowing he'd spoken at all.

"So what's between you two?" the younger Turk asked.

Reno glanced quickly in the mirror to see Yuffie, laying on the seat with her eyes closed. She was either asleep or trying not to barf on the seats; either one was very likely for her at this time. He decided there was no danger in lighting up a cigarette -- Rude had gone to the extent of customizing this thing just so Reno could smoke. "What do you mean?"

"Reno," he warned. "I'm not an idiot. There's something going on between you; the only women you have are generally kicked out the next night or live at your place every other night." The first women were common; he was referring to Scarlet by the second. "But you don't just invite someone in Wutai back repeatedly, Reno, I know you. You're getting attached."

As cliché as it sounded, that was actually a Turk code of sorts. Telling a Turk he or she was getting attached to something or someone was a way of challenging their loyalty to the job. The last person to say that was the man who might have had Elena's spot, to Tseng about the Cetra.

He didn't come home.

"You fucked her?"

Reno took a pull on his cigarette. "What kinda question is th --"

"Have you fucked her?" Rude repeated.

He didn't reply for a few seconds, then he said, "So what?"

"Scarlet died last night."

Reno almost inhaled his smoke, which distracted him from his original goal. When he remembered what Rude had said and was convinced he wasn't choking to death on his filter, he asked, "What? That gang killer?"

"She's fine, Reno." Sometimes, the redhead was still amazed that his friend could keep a straight face through it all. "See, you're attached to her and she never stays at your place. If someone comes from across the Planet and shares a bed with you for weeks at a time, there's definitely something going on there. You can't do that, Reno; team policy says the job comes first."

He chose not to talk to Rude for the rest of the ride there, and when they reached Wutai at around ten that night, he only said "Thanks" and "I'll call" before the pierced man took off back toward Midgar.

"So, Frankie," he said, for that was the name Yuffie had picked out for herself. "All the shops are closed. You wanna just get a hotel room and order room service and cheap movies or something?" Wutai was infamous for its cheap action movies, which Reno got a huge kick out of. "We can hit the shops tomorrow."

Yuffie agreed and they made their way to the only hotel in Wutai, constructed just over a year beforehand. They were surprised to find a line up to the desk that trailed out the door, but it seemed to be moving so they stayed in it. Yuffie didn't like the fact that the man in front of them seemed to have a gas problem and she was just in the right spot to catch the worst of it. Her cover as Frankie left her in no position to complain about it, though.

"The hell's this shit?" Reno muttered, sounding seriously irritated with the sudden rush for a hotel room. He looked at Yuffie. "This isn't some big manhunt for Godo's daughter, is it?" He'd almost said 'you,' but a Turk was always prepared to change what he said. When he received a shrug, he asked the man in front of them, "The hell's goin' on?"

The man turned around and lifted an eyebrow at him. "Like you don't know," he drawled sarcastically, and Reno caught sight of a small pouch on his belt that matched the one on the woman in front of him. Reno would have normally started a fight, but Yuffie seemed to know that as well and laid her hand on his arm, then smacked at his hand when she remembered she was Frankie now.

The line was rather swift, and they discovered this was because each person was just answering "Yes" to whatever question the desk clerk was asking. When it came to Reno and Yuffie's turn, she looked at them with an overly-sweet smile that made Reno want to knock another set of teeth out. Quickly, she asked, "I suppose you're on the room block?"

The two exchanged a look. Reno decided to go along with it, seeing as how his partner was playing a mute. "What's the advantage of the room block as opposed to getting our own?"

The clerk thought for a moment, then said, "No charge whatsoever."

"Yeah, we'll take that." Reno was definitely not one to turn down a free room, especially in a place he wanted to be. He would sacrifice a two-person room for a negative fee.

The woman smiled and handed them a pair of room keys. "Down the hall and to the left. Room 284." As they were walking away, she called, "Happy Winter Day, sirs!"

Reno kept walking, but tossed a finger at her and muttered something definitely not fit for the holiday spirit. 


	8. Five Bold Faced Lies

**The Turks Christmas Special : Five Bold-Faced Lies**

---

They awoke on their own time the next morning, which probably had to do with the fact that their time seemed to be long before the rest of their roommates'. They found this out when, at nearly ten in the morning, four separate alarm clocks went off and the same number of people leapt from their sleeping bags or beds, the latter having been snatched up quite fast. Reno was going to ask what was going on that was so important, but in what seemed to be one fluid movement, their roomies were all dressed and shoving them out the door into a wave of other people.

"Hey! Hey! What the hell?!" Nobody seemed to notice that Frankie the Mute had just become a lot less muted and a lot more feminine. These whatever-enthusiasts also seemed not to notice Reno was wearing a Turk suit, and he fell down more than once in the mob of people, all of whom were wearing those strange pouches.

When they were all finally out the door and Yuffie has relocated her partner, they went with the crowd to seem not as suspicious. The ninja was worried about where they were going, and that was because she was afraid they had found out what she'd known for years.

Da-Chao.

It wasn't the actual Da-Chao that was her secret; that would have just been stupid. The Wutain people worshipped the giant sculpture, though no one actually knew why. It was one of those things that kids knew to do from their parents, but they couldn't for the life of them figure out which parent had started it or where the carving had actually come from. It was just one of those mysteries of life that was taken in stride.

What wasn't taken in stride was what Yuffie had found inside, and what was more than likely being hunted today: her garden. She in no way had a green thumb, that wasn't it, but with all the exploring she had done up in that mountain, she had come across a treasure that kept her happy. What she had found was a Materia garden.

Someone, years ago, had done something to make Materia grow right out of the ground in a secret cove within Da-Chao. She didn't dare tamper with the soil it came right out of, but she did take the Materia when it was fully formed and keep it in another cavern she had found for emergencies.

In her absence, somebody had done some exploring, and that didn't sit right with her. In a sudden sense of urgency to protect what was hers, she grabbed Reno's hand and they moved to the side, into the line of people that were running, and kept up a much swifter pace. Up ahead she saw people -- no, not just people; that was Chekov and the other was Gorki -- handing out large, machine-powered chisels and spades, along with what Yuffie and Reno didn't know to be Rude's father's tank parts.

Chekov gave Frankie a spade, shoved him forward, and Gorki was about to pass what appeared to be part of a blown up turret to Reno when they both saw who he was and the entire line halted. No one seemed to notice that Frankie had suddenly stopped in his tracks when he saw just what they were doing to the mountain. Under the disguise, Yuffie's eyes were clouding; they were attacking her beautiful homeland with pick-axes, sledgehammers, jackhammers, and anything else sharp and assertive.

And her father was standing atop the highest peak, watching it all; instructing them where to dig.

Reno was having more trouble than she was. The two moderators of this whole thing had his arms pinned to the ground and had positioned themselves to the point where he couldn't move his legs. Both were shouting at him in an alternation of Wutain and one of the three languages he'd actually taken time out of his life to learn, and Yuffie's name was coming up quite a bit. "GODO!" one of them finally screeched, and down he came, leaping distances only a man like himself could.

"Where is she?!" he screamed upon seeing who had been caught, even pushing the incognito Yuffie right out of the way as he did. He drew a short, sharp knife and rushed toward the downed Turk, waving it like he was a three-year-old with a rifle. "Where the hell is my daughter, you rat-bastard scum?!"

Reno looked perplexed, and Yuffie's blood ran cold. It was all over now; in her brief moment of overwhelming nationalism, she'd forgotten all about the truth; about the fact her father certainly knew she'd gone to Reno; even about the lie she'd told the redhead himself. The jig was up now; no way was she going to let her best friend take the fall for her stupid fucking mistake.

No, he wasn't just her best friend, and that enthused her further. He was something more; they had a bond that couldn't be touched by their former rivalry; by meddling parents and legal restrictions of this-is-moral-this-is-illegal or whatnot. She surged forward with this knowledge, painfully tearing off the wig they'd tied into her real hair. "Daddy! Leave him alone!"

Even the miners stopped their work at this. Godo had figured his daughter had left for good this time and therefore had ordered the rape of their land and her greatest treasure. He wasn't proud of the decision, but there was nothing else to do. He'd found journals upon journals about the place, and had declared that it was free for the taking. He certainly couldn't just leave it alone; someone else might find it on their own and use it against the town.

"What are you doing?!" Yuffie continued. "You're going to tear down Da-Chao for some stupid Materia?! I'm here now, it's mine, and I'm not leaving until I know those mountains are safe from your shit! You hear me, Godo?!"

He turned around and she stopped again. On his face was a look that said all he'd wanted was his daughter back; he always looked half his age when in power, but right now he looked twice it. The knife slipped from his hand and his fingers began to tremble. One might not peg him as a family man, but he'd been immensely worried when she left suddenly. Without the usual fight, it was possible something had seriously happened to her, but he didn't want to show a considerate side in a time of need.

"Yuffie. . .you just left. . .I thought. . ." He broke from his trance for a moment and rifled through his pockets until he found a cardboard box, price tag still on it, and held it up for her to see. "Is it. . .are you really. . .?"

Reno couldn't believe what was going on here. Godo wanted him dead for taking his daughter? But if Godo didn't know she was at Reno's and she had actually just left, that meant the Turk had been getting lied to for a few days now. He was a Turk; he was a killer; his health could drastically improve and it would help him out a lot; but one thing he refused to be was a liar. Liars and traitors were scum to the Turks, and Yuffie knew that. And now Godo was standing there, facing his daughter, and holding up the remains of a box for a home pregnancy test.

There was no kind way to put it.

He'd been used by Yuffie Kisaragi.

Reno wouldn't go down like that. Chekov and Gorki had released him now, probably just out of surprise that she had passed right under their noses. The Turk stood up slowly, meeting Yuffie's eyes as he did so. Silently she admitted her mistake; he didn't know by eyes alone whether she was asking for forgiveness or not, but he didn't care right now.

He'd been used.

And what surprised him was that it hurt.

Turning on his shined heel, he walked away, pulling out his phone and telling Rude to bring a two-seat plane and a stiff drink, pretending not to feel her heart break behind him.

---

**Author's Note**: A short one, I know, but it holds all that needs to be written.


	9. Four Long Binges

**The Turks Christmas Special : Four Long Binges**

---

Reno wasn't sure why he was taking this so badly; after all, he'd always silently considered her an annoying brat with too much power for her own good. On the other hand, next to the finger that said fuck everything in this world and to shoot him where he sat, he'd also silently called her his best friend in these two years. Rude was like a brother, but there were times when even he couldn't compare to a good conversation with the ninja.

No, he decided as he looked out over the sea, he knew why he was taking this badly. He was taking it so damn hard because it was a direct blow to him. No diversion of attention; he'd been tricked, lied to, and fuck if he wasn't the father of that kid. She didn't even have the gall to tell him that she was actually pregnant? Hell, he figured, she could lie about the father all she wanted, but she didn't even bother to be honest about having one at all?

That was low; in the world of Turks, a liar was lower than scum, and he wasn't anything if he wasn't a blue-suited ShinRa employee with the job title of a Turk. No two ways about it.

Rude hadn't said anything particularly in the form of "I told you so" yet. When there was a serious problem with Reno, he would respect that. It wasn't the fact that Reno was a guy most people didn't want to piss off, because the bald man could toss him ten feet and had done it on occasion, it was just that silent respect between two people closer than even the greatest psychiatrist can diagnose. He knew his boundaries, and that just meant he would turn on his comm radio and leave Reno in peace.

The redhead had tried sleeping the way there, but he kept seeing her. It was stupid, he knew, when he had walked right out of town of his own free will and left her with her royalty and lies, but he missed her already. Even so, the rules he'd lived his life on outweighed bending them for her, friend or not.

"Rude. . ." he croaked, looking like the most pathetic thing to ever sit side-seat with a Turk. Most pathetic thing that wasn't dead, anyway. Rude took off his headset and glanced at him calmly. ". . .Pick Scarlet up. Tonight, we're drinkin'."

He didn't object; just angled the plane a bit toward the left and obliged.

---

If you frequent any bar, you know how Reno looked when he walked into What's His Name, the shadiest of the shady joints, but near his house.

He was the desperate man this time, flanked by a big Turk and their drinking buddy who was a good, accepting lay. He walked in and sat down the a look that universally means, "I've had a shit day. Load me up." The bartender wasn't his favorite, and he barely ever came here unless he was on a job, but the old man slid a scotch to him with an understanding nod, then gave his friends complimentary drinks.

"Fuck a designated driver," Scarlet had said. "We'll walk for all it's worth."

The redhead started drinking as any desperate man does. He slammed a few down to get himself in a better mood. Then he slammed a few more for good measure. But he didn't stop there; nearly the entire night, he was sucking down hard liquor, so fast that Rude wouldn't have been able to keep up if he'd wanted to. And if he did. . .well, the bald man had a feeling no one else's system could take Reno's alcohol poundings.

When the bartender says "Boy, I think you've had enough" within half an hour of your first step in the bar, everyone within a three-table radius knows you've had the shit day that's been plastered on your face since the first sip of brandy. When this particular bartender said that, a look unlike anything he'd ever seen was permanently imbedded into his mind. It was actually rumored that he quit the very next week.

Reno decided to start hustling again that night. He'd paid his way through college on money hustled from billiards, poker, and anything else he could get his hands on a lot of gil with. As drunk as he was, Reno still had his rare finesse moments, and when Scarlet managed to sneak in a game of pool with him, he sobered up, but didn't stop being so bitter.

That was another thing he'd noticed. Everything tasted bitter tonight, and that was coming from a man who considered hot sauce straight from the bottle to be a soothing remedy for the bile rising in the back of his throat post an especially messy job. He'd tasted it all before; the brand names weren't any different, the cans and bottles opened with the same popping noise every time. But it all tasted bitter, and he constantly was seeing Yuffie out the corner of his eye.

Scarlet smiled knowingly and broke the rack, sinking two solids. "Broke your heart, did she?"

The redhead's pool stick slipped from his grip for a moment, and he seriously debated picking it back up and ramming it through her stomach. "Piss off, Scarlet."

"I'm not playing the instigator tonight, Re," she said softly, and sounded like she meant it. "You know what I'm doing after we get out of here? I'm going to my apartment. I'm sitting up late with my cat and we're going to share a microwave dinner over a foreign film. That's it; no plan to end up in your bed tonight, no plan to spread this around the company. 'Know what I'll do tomorrow? Wake up, get ready for the company party at the building, go out for dinner again tomorrow night. No mocking phone call, no slipping up and telling everyone in the building. You hear me?"

"What the fuck are you getting at?" he ground out as she just barely missed the seven ball. He took his shot and knocked the twelve in with conviction. "That you're throwing your relaxed life in my face?"

He knocked down the nine ball and she sighed, frustrated. "I'm trying to say that I know where you're coming from. I've been in love, as strange as that may sound from someone like me, but I fell out of it not by choice. He ended it, and it fucking hurt, Reno, it really did." He didn't reply, just tapped his pool cue on the table and she got into position to knock that five to hell. "So tell me. She break your heart?"

He lit a cigarette and pilfered an ashtray from an empty table. "She didn't break my heart, and I ain't sayin' I never had one to break. She lied, though. She played my ass like a pinball machine and didn't even tell me about it. You know the Turk policy on liars?"

"Mm?" The five ball was being stubborn, and she glimpsed Rude chatting it up with some junkies, so she didn't feel too bad about leaving him there. She knew the Turk policy as well as the next executive, but talking was therapeutic and he needed to do it.

He took a long pull. "We kill the fuckers," he said, breathing smoke with each word. It was fitting; standing at the edge of a pool table, cue in hand, breathing smoke as his eyes were just out of the light. He looked like a real badass, and that's what he could be if the need arose. "We kill 'em and we watch 'em squirm when we do it. You know why? 'Cause the shit hittin' the fan ain't so bad once the shitter's fryin'."

"You can honestly say you've never lied to anyone since becoming a Turk?" questioned Scarlet. She took the cigarette out from behind her ear and leaned across the table for him to light it. A few men at his back gawked as her dress dipped low, but they were so high that neon signs were turn-ons.

Reno nodded. "Honestly. I'll twist the truth, but straight up lie?" He twirled his stick and it ended up around his back, and he shot from there. "Hell no," he said as the stick connected with the cueball, making fast work of two stripes in a line. "I say to somebody they'll be all right, I take their left hand and left foot. I say everything'll be fine in the morning, I make sure they die before midnight and everything's fine for someone that hates 'em. But never've I said I wouldn't kill somebody."

"What does your sadism have to do with Yuffie, then?"

His cue skipped off the felt of the table and he gripped it hard. Just when he'd gotten his mind on something else, as wretched as it was. . . "Seriously, Scarlet, you can piss off. She lied to me, okay? I don't put up with lying snakes like her once I've got 'em in their own lie, y'got me? And now I've got --"

He stopped. Neither Scarlet nor Rude knew just what had happened in Wutai, because they figured they were safer not asking him. And he wasn't about to tell them that there was a kid on the way that was probably his and he'd just gotten tricked into believing nothing of that sort was going on. Turks didn't get tricked; they got screwed over and then got their revenge. "I've got a problem, 'swhat I got," he mumbled.

Scarlet gave him a look, then she smiled lightly. "C'mon, Reno. I'll walk you home."

For once, he didn't object. He just got his coat, let Rude know they were leaving, and left with the blonde. No arm around the waist, no holding hands. Just two friends walking out of a bar into a winter night, seeing each other how they hadn't seen each other before: as people who identified with other people.

The Turk didn't know what possessed him to do it, but once they'd reached his house, he flopped down on the hood of his car and patted the spot next to him. "'Less the cat's gonna die of hunger, wanna hang around for a bit?"

She pulled her coat tighter around her as the wind kicked up some ice-snow mix at her face, and she wondered if it was worth freezing her ass off to make sure Reno didn't kill someone. He opened his jacket to expose a large bottle of something hard and she found herself giving in to a night of drinking with one of her better friends. The cat could wait, she decided as she climbed onto the hood and laid down on his arm, head instinctively sinking into his shoulder.

They both seemed to discover at the same time that they'd assumed the post-sex position automatically, and that gave them a genuine laugh. "So who're you seeing tomorrow night?" was the first thing he asked.

Scarlet thought for a moment and then smirked. "You'll meet my date at the dance. By the way, Rude told me that there's a killer out for us, so don't worry about being the one to break the news of my bounty to me."

"You can hold yourself," Reno said confidently, taking a drink and passing the bottle on. Anyone else would have made some comment about the stars being out tonight, but he was Reno and she was Scarlet. Neither one of them really gave a shit about the stars. "Besides," he yawned, "we're ShinRa execs with badass weapons. We'll take the bastard."

She lay there for a while, zoning out at the sky in a state that actually was inebriated. When she passed the bottle and he didn't take it, she looked up and was more than slightly amused to see he'd fallen asleep and looked rather peaceful. She didn't exactly know what was between them; they were fuck-buddies, which was the only way to put it. But any time they weren't in bed, they were something besides friends. She couldn't put her finger on it, but. . .she shrugged it off and curled up, closing her eyes.

The cat could wait; Reno was damned comfortable.


	10. Three Flu Bugs

**The Turks Christmas Special : Three Flu Bugs**

---

Reno came to the next day feeling like a train had hit him. He didn't often get hungover, and therefore ruled that out as the cause of this pressure in his head. It took maybe five minutes for it to register with him that he was not laying on his mattress.

No, this felt. . .hard.

Metallic, even.

Sniffing, he felt the burn of cold air into early morning lungs and began hacking, opening his eyes to do so. What he found was a street covered with snow, more falling down on his suit -- which, as he would see in a moment, was somewhere beneath a large snow mound with the rest of him -- and a windshield at the back of his head.

He wiggled his frozen fingers and found a bottle clutched in one hand, at which time the previous night rushed back into his mind and he knew he was laying on his own car this morning. That was at least an upgrade as far as awakenings atop cars went for the Turk.

Reno knew, though, that he would have never chosen to do this, and also knew that Scarlet usually was the type to leave him in a compromising position. He pushed the snow off of him, sneezed, and slid off the car to go inside.

He fell flat on his face, courtesy tied-together shoelaces.

"That bitch," he growled, meaning none of it. That was exactly the stupid shit she'd pull, and she was good with knots. She said it came from having kinky high school relationships, but he wasn't entirely sure she hadn't tied nooses for pathetic teenagers at one point in her life. Not giving her the satisfaction of seeing him try to untie them -- it was a completely stupid thought, but his mind wasn't firing on all cylinders yet -- he slipped them off and took a swig from the bottle.

Growling, he smashed the bottle. He was getting more and more pissed; the alcohol had frozen at the bottom.

He cursed the blonde for all of his problems up to the door, when he fished out his keys with a trembling hand and finally got the right one into the lock. Not one whose luck changes without something ruining itself just for good measure, the key snapped right off.

The redhead looked up at the snowing sky. "Oh, you're a real fucking comedian."

He popped the window out with no problem at all and shoved himself inside, teeth now chattering loudly. He put the window back in and walked into the bathroom quickly, peeling off his frozen suit and tossing it onto the floor. None of the previous occupants of the house had even dared to touch the level of heat that his water ran at in the shower for a solid fifteen minutes until he had feeling back in his toes.

He sneezed a few more times as he dried himself off, swore loudly at the towel that never got his hair perfectly dry, and went to find something comfortable for the day. His first sign of being sick -- the first one that he admitted to, anyway -- was when he banged his hip on his nightstand and saw colors dance throughout the room briefly. Pretending not to see the clothes that belonged to Yuffie on the floor, or else just too out of it to see them at all, he collapsed into his armchair as soon as possible, wondering why he was panting.

Reno's immune system was remarkable. He hadn't ever missed a day of work, he had only an allergy to cripshay milk, hell, he barely even coughed. Elena had once called him The Human Vaccine and said he should be a superhero, but he disagreed, saying that vaccines cured people as opposed to his blowing holes in their faces and taking their children reputation to keep up.

She'd winced, what with it being her first day and the story having come up some strange way, and steered away from him for a good few weeks.

Yet there he was, sweating from seemingly nothing and feeling as though his face were ablaze and his stomach rebellious. This was mental bullshit, said his more critical brain, while the better of his two sides said he should just go lay down and sleep it off. After trying to stand up three times, he succeeded, then walked to the kitchen and opened the medicine cabinet.

After a few pills for the flu, still shivering and feeling all around cold, he willed himself into his room and under his comforter.

---

He woke up maybe three times the entire day to take a quick piss, get a bottle of water, and stagger back into bed, and each time felt progressively better. When he came fully back into the real world, the sun was rising again and he felt as good as he had before he'd gone to the bar with Scarlet and Rude. So good, in fact, that he hopped out of bed and into the shower, singing some nonsense Winter Day tune as he did, and then bounded into the kitchen wearing only a securely-wrapped towel to make something filling.

He hit the button to hear the six messages on his answering machine as he passed, cranking up the volume.

_. . .message. . .one. . ._

"Hey, Reno." It was Reeve, he thought as he threw everything that looked appetizing onto the counter and then went about a military-esque cutting process, ending up with eggs, bacon, toast, and hashbrowns. "Just letting you know that the Operation's prediction was right, but we're heading this guy off and he's getting sloppy. We've lost only one member since I talked to you last, but the way it looks is that we'll still be seeing him at the company party. So. . .really, not much else to say. See you at the office."

_beep_

_. . .message. . .two. . ._

"Reno? Scarlet. Just thought I'd say you should stop by the Turk office when you get to the party. I left you a little surprise. Kyah hah. See you tomorrow, babe. Bye."

_beep_

That was odd, he decided, and then took it back. It was just like her to fuck with something on his desk while he was out of action and could only get to it after it left its mark. Because, knowing her, it was probably some rabid animal in a Schmidt costume that was trained to chew up anything that smelled like his cologne. Yeah, that was just her style. He cracked an egg into the pan.

_. . .message. . .three. . ._

"Mr. Drannor, this is Jeanette, Mr. Skeward's assistant. He, as your lawyer, has told me that. . .well, Mr. Drannor, there's no easy way to say this. You case will never hold up in court. You're simply wasting your time trying to say you were talking loudly and got your tongue stuck to the DJ's flagpole because it was badly placed and unheated. You may be better off just paying them a few gil for the inconvenience as opposed to asking them for thirty-two thousand. Thank you, Mr. Drannor. For the record, Mr. Skeward is also filing for a restraining order since you stapled his lapels to the desk."

_beep_

He shrugged. He hadn't expected to win that case, but everything was worth a try.

_. . .message. . .four. . ._

"Where the fuck are you, man?" That was Rude in all his angry glory. "I banged on the door twice, and now you're not picking up your phone. I see a big body-shaped lump on the car where Scarlet said she left you. so if you're dead, you should let me know. Call me back; I need my tie out of your guest room."

_beep_

_. . .message. . .five. . ._

"Reeve again. Rude said he can't get ahold of you. Just thought I'd call and see if I could. If I don't see you at the party, you'll be in the obituaries on Monday. Call me back."

_beep_

Yeah, that was just like Reeve to play the fatherly type. Reno chuckled and tossed the bacon into the frying pan. He briefly considered hiding out just to see what they would put on his headstone, but then he remembered that he needed his job more than anything. Besides, he kind of liked it.

_. . .message. . .six. . ._

There was a long pause and Reno thought for a moment it was someone with the wrong number that had hung up and screwed with his answering machine. It happened more often than one might thing, and it was annoying as hell. He'd gotten it fixed properly once, but nowadays it wasn't worth it and he just tapped it with a hammer until it worked again.

"Reno?"

He jumped and swung around, but it was just the answering machine.

"Heh. Nah, this is an answering machine, right? I can't really tell when the message is just "Who the hell is it?" and a beep. Whatever. I know you're probably sitting there listening to this right now, and I couldn't blame you if I tried. I did a bad thing, Reno, I know that, but I had to do it or this would have all happened a lot more violently and a lot faster. Look, Reno, I know you're no idiot and you're well aware that this is your kid. You're my best friend, Re, and if I lose you as even that. . . Somewhere along the line, I made the damned stupid mistake of getting attached, the one you said no strong person makes in case they have to leave." Her voice was getting thick. In the egg yolks he could see her eyes tear up. "And now one of us has to leave, and I know it's me. Godo has a bounty out for you, Reno, and there's no way he'll let me leave without tracking me down, too. He set me up for a week in the hotel by your place for extended goodbyes, but. . .shit, after that. . ."

_beep_

_. . .end. . .of. . .messages. . ._

He forgot briefly about the breakfast, but then decided to start cooking again because he could focus his mind partly on that.

That hadn't been Yuffie Kisaragi. At least, that hadn't been the Yuffie Kisaragi he knew. That was the scared, eighteen-year-old Yuffie that needed companionship and a good place to stay. He didn't know that Yuffie; that was the ninja that had been bounced on her father's knee until she spit up into his morning coffee, but they both found it cute and amusing. That was the Yuffie whose mother had told her she was the most beautiful thing in the world on her deathbed; the Yuffie who cried when she figured out what had actually happened.

That wasn't a lying snake-in-the-grass Yuffie.

That was his Yuffie; the Yuffie he needed to protect.

His head was swimming as he ate his hashbrowns. He wanted to go over there right now, scoop her into his arms, and tell her it was all fine and she was forgiven. But on the hand that said live by the book, die by the book, she had lied to him about the most vital of things. He was in quite the predicament.

Something clicked on in his head, which seemed to be very helpful this morning. It asked why he was even thinking about what to do; if she was good enough to consider breaking moral codes over, why shouldn't she be good enough to just haul off and do it for? And if she was worth actually doing that for. . .was it possible that he. . .?

"No," he said aloud. "Reno Drannor fucks. Reno Drannor leaves. Reno Drannor kills. Reno Drannor ruins. But Reno Drannor is surely not a fucking father figure. You hear me, Yuffie? I can't be a father, y'hear? So knock this lovey-dovey shit off and I might, just might, come talk to you."

Suddenly there was a phone in his hand. He wasn't sure when it got there or how long it had been there, but he knew it was there and the screen read Scarlet's number. He held the phone to his ear and gave a fearful, meek, ". . .Scarlet?"

His hope fluttered about for a moment before he heard her chuckle in a nonhumorous way and hang up. He didn't know when he had called her, nor why, but he had a feeling it had to do with the fact he always went to her for advice on things. And she'd heard him say that; she knew it all, but she'd heard him say Yuffie's name and definitely knew what was going on by now. She knew about the kid now; she knew that he and Yuffie were closer than they appeared; she probably had heard through the grapevine what had happened in Wutai.

He checked the clock on the wall and sighed, finishing his breakfast quickly. He went to the refrigerator and did a quick count of his alcohol.

After walking out the door and down the street to get a newspaper -- it did, indeed, proclaim what had happened in Wutai and that he was the father of Yuffie Kisaragi's unborn son or daughter -- he returned to his house and made a few phone calls to make sure everyone knew he was alive. At roughly eleven in the morning, which was not too early to begin drinking as it had been when the ninja was around, he did just that.

The rest of the day was a smashed blur.

---

**Author's Note**: Hurrah for the self-revelation chapter?


	11. Two Special Guests

**Author's Note**: So, you've reached it. If you've been keeping track, or even give two shits, this is the company party. We're a week away from the Christmas Day conclusion. -jigs- 

**The Turks Christmas Special : Two Special Guests**

---

Reno felt much better the following day. Rude had come over to get his tie and the day had just escalated in entertainment from there. He wasn't positive, but he thought he'd seen at least Reeve, Scarlet, Elena, and a couple of their lower-rank friends in his living room at the climax of the impromptu party. It was only a party because of the music, really; no one had anything to celebrate, but they were all there drinking nonetheless.

He never made it to bed, but the last stragglers from the festivities had gone by three in the morning, leaving him to sit up on his roof. He could see a few lights, but the one he focused on for a good hour was on the third floor of the hotel. It didn't take a genius to know who was in there, simply because he was far from it. Reno sat smoking on the roof, keeping a Turk-trained eye on the window and going in for food when he needed it, until midday the day of the ball.

Suddenly, the shades flung themselves shut -- that's how it looked from outside, anyway -- and a minute or two later, the door to the hotel flew open. Something possessed him to crawl over the peak in his roof, flatten himself out against the shingles, and wait to see what she would do. There was no doubt in his mind that it was her and this had been what he'd been waiting for for so long. It was probably a good thing he was right, otherwise he might have stayed there all day.

She rounded the corner slowly, glancing around as if to make sure she wasn't being followed. The old woman across the street had already seen her and paused in her watering of the plants, which led to an overflowing pot. Carefully, Yuffie walked up to his door, stepping on her toes as if the slightest sound would alert the guard dog he didn't have.

His knuckles went white, gripping the peak of the roof. He wasn't holding on; he was just anxious for. . .something.

The Wutain lifted her hand and brought it toward the door, but stopped short. For maybe five minutes she stood there, maybe in a storm of indecision or just hoping he might be inside and watching out the window, before her shoulders slumped. "What the hell are you doing, Yuffie. . .he'll probably shoot you. . ." She turned and walked away as quietly as she'd come, looking defeated this time through. He watched her go all the way before slinging himself back over the roof and sliding in through his bedroom window.

He wasn't sure what had happened; whether it was the fact he was getting over it or the one that said today was the company party and he was the king of fazing out distractions temporarily, that didn't rile him up nearly as badly as it would have yesterday. Either the party had done something major for him or this was all too much for him at one time so his mind was putting it on hold until his business was done.

Or. . .maybe he didn't care. It would make a normal man hate himself, but he'd been known to not care about the people he meant the most to.

He didn't care; he had some hell to let loose tonight, and he knew his targets already. Even in this time of great peril -- or at least that's how Tseng would put it in some speech -- he was going to start some shit, Drannor-style.

"Fuck," he groaned, slapping his forehead. The speech. Last year they hadn't made anybody make speeches, and the year before. . .well, he wasn't in charge the year before. But this year he'd been told to write up and deliver a speech. He checked the clock and saw he had maybe seven hours to do it; judging from past years, he knew the length these things had to be. He could skip out on it, of course, but. . .that would be lying, and Turks were honorable people.

Maybe it was the first time he'd motivated that year, but he preferred getting wasted to actually counting.

---

"Happy Winter Day, Reno!"

Elena had been waiting at the door of the building for him, and wrapped him in a hug as soon as he walked inside. He allowed himself to smile despite the speech that was under his jacket and the thoughts ringing in the back of his head. Reno had never pegged himself as a writer, nor had any of his teachers, but when he'd sat down to write that, it had just come.

And the result scared the hell out of him.

The ShinRa Hall, basically the ballroom, was as large as you might expect from a room that was supposed to be big in the first place remade with the richest man in the world behind the wheel. Chandeliers that could blind a man after so long, a bar with almost every kind of liquor behind it, and a buffet table filled with the finest delicacies and appetizers that ShinRa, Incorporated could find, and that was lot.

"How's the holiday treating you?" he asked in good spirit. She gave him a smirk and a shrug; something was on her mind. His next question was "Scarlet here yet?" to which she seemed uncomfortable and flipped a wrist toward the bar. "Thanks. See y'round." He made his way over toward the long slab of wood, slapping a few people from the offices on the back as he did. At a company event, the head Turk had to be reasonable.

He found her talking to Reeve over a martini, looking more respectable than Scarlet the Starlet could have dreamt of, in a flowing red dress, golden earrings, and makeup that said real estate agent as opposed to real live whore. He knew she had a gun at her hip, though. Reno was briefly confused, and the first thing he asked was, "Tell me this loser's not your fabled date? Can't even wear a fucking tie to his own company get-together." With a grin, Reno reached out and tugged off the clip-on.

Reeve, one of those good-spirited holiday guys, just shook his head with a small smile. "'Fraid not, but I wouldn't say much about my tie. I assume you forgot to write the speech and we'll need to have an extra ten minutes of Heideggar's gibberish this year?"

"No faith at all, Reeve," he drawled, opening his coat. Next to his gun was the piece of paper he'd doubted himself about all afternoon. He had a feeling that both were something Reeve was relieved to see. "Scarlet, come up to my office with me, hm?"

She lifted a brow, as if to say, "Why?"

The redhead smirked. "If anything falls out and tries to cut my dick off, I want your neck within three feet." He held out his arm, and after telling Reeve she would be back, she looped hers around it and strode alongside him.

They didn't speak until they reached the elevator, just because having conversations with all the names they called each other wasn't exactly accepted when walking through a room of highly respectable businessmen. The only reason they didn't hustle to the elevator like teens in love was because Reno knew they could easily pass off as esteemed husband and wife -- that and they weren't going to fuck in the elevator this year. Hell, they'd done both last year.

Inside the lift, she pressed the button for the fifty-first floor and looked at him. "What the hell's with your hair?" she asked. Indeed, he'd combed through it and slicked it back. Without the markings on the sides of his face and the fact he smelled like an eternally-burning cigarette, she wouldn't have believed it was him.

He shrugged and lit up a smoke, passing a second to her with his lighter. "No smoking," to them, meant "Just don't ash in the petri dishes, okay?" He was rather proud of the way he'd cleaned up for the party. A black suit, tie, shined shoes, and everything. "Speech to give."

Scarlet's lip quirked up and she straightened his suit jacket, fixing his tie while she was at it. It would have looked like a mother sending her son to his first day of college to any ignorant observer. But that was just the way they were; the pair who made it very blatant twice a year that "there will be birthday spankings once we clock out!" in a way that isn't fit for a classroom also went out of their way to do stupid shit like clearing dandruff off of each other's shoulders.

"How do I look, Mom?" he queried, stretching out the last word.

In a rare moment of affection -- perhaps even more rare because the only reason she could reach his head was because of her dress heels -- she kissed him on the cheek and smiled honestly. "You really do clean up rather well, Reno. I think all you need's a good woman to take care of you." She met his eyes. "Honest answer, if just to humor me. Could we last if we tried?"

"Scarlet," he said in a confident voice, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears. "We could do anything we wanted with enough effort, you and I. But for tonight, I think we're better off with you telling me who your date is and me trying to figure out where the fuck my life is taking me."

Her smile held. "Do what you need to do, Drannor. I've got your back if nobody else does."

For the first time in a long time, Reno was touched. He might have hugged her if it wasn't a totally strange thing for him to do. "This still leaves us with the puzzle of who you're going to dinner with all the time, am I right?" The elevator buzzed and the doors slid open. Most lights had been dimmed for the energy conservation, and there was something intensely relaxing about walking down a long, tile hallway with one of his best friends. He'd yet to tell her about Yuffie's one-week stay in Midgar, but the time would come.

She smirked and fished the keys to the Turk office out of his pocket. "All in due time, Reno." She unlocked the door, amused that he actually stepped off to the side, but the door swung open without any hassle and she turned the lights on. Tossing his keys at him, she said, "See? No knife-wielding psycho."

"Har," he barked, and still poked his head in before entering himself. "So what's the big surprise? The reminder that I'm still stuck with this shit job and this is still my office?"

Scarlet's hips swayed as she headed to his desk. "Shit job, shit office, but not shit people, hm?" She picked an envelope up from his desk and threw it gracefully to him. "Happy Winter Day, you ungrateful slob. Don't worry, I mean that in the most positive way." The strange part was that they both knew she actually did.

The Turk opened the envelope with the keys before pocketing them. He slid from the envelope. . .a title. It wasn't a title to a desk or anything, but rather the title to a house that was in. . . He squinted. "Costa del Sol?" he murmured. He had a perfectly nice house; no beach in sight, but that didn't bother him all that much. It was then that he saw the seal in the bottom corner of the paper and knew what was going on. "The villa?" he asked, head jerking toward her. "You bought me the ShinRa Villa?"

"That's a joint present from my date and I. Rude's present is flying you over there whenever you wanna check it out and picking you up the next week. I hope you don't mind that I invited myself along?" she asked impassively. "It's winter. I can't afford to look pale right now."

He didn't know how to take this. The ShinRa Villa was absolutely amazing if you knew how to look at it. For some rag-tar traveler like Cloud Strife, who'd been offered the place for twice its worth, it looked like just another stop. By through the eyes of a ShinRa executive on vacation, that place was paradise. "You bought me. . .the ShinRa Villa. First Reeve buys me a bar and now you give me a beach house."

She was still smiling. "It's not like I don't have the cash to toss around, and I think you'd love it there for a summer or two. Great beach, decent bar, nice decor. . .like I said, present from my date and I."

After a few more rounds of what had basically just been said, they went back down to join the party, coming off the elevator as presentable as they'd gotten on. That was a relief to most people in attendance; some major psychological damage had been done the previous year. Scarlet disappeared into the ever-growing crowd to find Reeve and Reno was left wandering around until he bumped into Rude and Leila, his date for the night.

"Reno," the latter said tensely, showing no signs of shaking his hand or even smiling. "I read about you in the paper this morning, even saw you on the TV; a real celebrity since you nailed the princess of Wutai, aren't you?"

On his second cigarette of the evening, his mind waged war once again and he decided this would be the only fun he would have this night. He took the smoke out of his mouth and stubbed it forcefully out on a very notable part of her dress with a big smile. "Better hope my fucking paparazzi doesn't get you in a shot. You look like shit."

She gaped at him, and then at Rude, who was trying hard not to laugh and failing as badly as Palmer at dieting. With a Plate-level scoff that was obviously an mock, she swept up the bottom of her dress and walked off.

Rude, who stuck by the fact he'd warned her about this type of stuff, just shrugged and slapped Reno on the back. "She was really gettin' on my nerves. Thanks, man."

They walked around, making friends with all the high-rollers from Junon and Wutai, until Reeve stood at the podium and tapped the mic for attention. "Thank you for coming to ShinRa, Incorporated's Annual Winter Day Ball, everyone. I trust the weather treated you well. Now if I may have our speakers of the night? General Gregory Heideggar, Miss Scarlet Chassity, Mister Reno Drannor, and Doctor Katedona Touzas, please?"

It took a moment for them to all sort through the crowd and make it to where four chairs had been set out for them, especially through the thunderous applause, as it sounded on the floor, but they all made it in one piece. Scarlet sat next to Reno, while Heideggar and the Junon-dwelling Touzas sat on the other side of the podium. A few reporters were hanging around the front of the crowd.

"Miss Chassity, if you would, please?" Ever the gentleman, Reeve gave her a brief hug as those in attendance clapped. Reno'd seen his lips move, though, and he read them well: Be careful.

Scarlet smiled with the teeth that could win the war. "Thank you, President. As we all in attendance know, was appointed to Head of Rebuilding and Maintenance and other miscellaneous jobs after the unfortunate, tragic downfall of the ShinRa Family Empire just over two years ago. But since then, I'd like to say, I've seen an improvement in this city that is absolutely fantastic. This is in no way a cheap shot at the late presidents Robert and Rufus ShinRa, both of whom were dear, dear people to me, but I would like to say that there is no better man to run this city than our own President Emerson Reeve, and I am proud to work under his watchful eye. Expect to see Midgar take on an even better look throughout the next year. Thank you." She made a small waving motion and stepped down to another round of applause.

Heideggar was next up, but it was a blessing that he'd been doing a lot of outdoors work lately and his voice was nearly gone. He didn't even expect a hug. "I'm sorry, my speech will be cut severely short this year due to sickness." He cleared his throat. "As head of Defense, Security, and Warfare, I would like to say that this city has never been as safe as it is today and the future of Midgar looks as bright as the present." He did it again, but that was all he'd needed to say. "Thank you."

One of the press people in the front yelled out, "Robbie Neverson, from the Midgar Times! General, are the rumors true? Is there really a serial killer out on Midgar streets as we speak? And if there is, why shouldn't the public know about it?" There was a yell from two more reporters in agreement.

Reeve was going to leap up, but Reno slapped him back down with a strong arm, as he'd taken Scarlet's seat. The redhead used the momentum to propel himself up and walked to the podium, shoving Heideggar out of the way as the man flushed. He readjusted the mic and spoke: "Well, I believe I'm up to bat next, so I, as leader of the Turks, will field this one." He took his speech out before he did so, and his answer was, "Mister Neverson, isn't someone always trying to fuck up Midgar?"

A gasp ran through the more sophisticated crowd, but the former slum-dwellers who had made it to the top of the food chain pumped fists into the air, overcome by a sudden kind of pride for the place.

Reno's hands were sweating. His legs were shaking. God, he needed a fucking cigarette. He hated standing up in front of people, and he felt even worse in Tseng's place. But he still put on a confident face from the waist up as Robbie Neverson began scribbling on his notepad. "Mister Neverson, don't quote me. We all in attendance know that what I just said is the undisputed truth and nothing you put in the Midgar Times is going to lower the crime rate. Now you have two options. You can take that notepad and shove it up your ass while we all beat you with exotic fruits, or you can go back to your employer and say the crime is just as severe now as it was ten years ago. The same goes for alla you," he said, sweeping a finger across the line of reporters. A collective shudder ran through them. "Now if you're done badgering the General and I, may I continue?"

No one spoke; no one breathed. Except for Reeve, who asked softly, "Do you have any idea what you just said?"

"Very well, then." Reno knew, but he didn't care. He looked down at the paper he'd written and it was all blurred together. His eyes refused to focus well enough to read it, but he tried again. And again. The murmur from one person to another grew until there was a quiet clamor of people in hurried, questioning tones.

Reno gave up. This wasn't his paper; this wasn't how he felt about Midgar. Paperwork or no, he wouldn't say it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he sighed into the mic, quieting them. "I know you're all far too used to the Reno Drannor who makes a fool out of himself at all of the company festivities, but a different man stands before you tonight.

"You all undoubtedly have read the articles in the newspaper and seen the television reports about my most recent. . .misfortune. Everyone makes such a big deal of today like it's the climax of everything good in the world, but we've said it ourselves that someone's killing innocents, papers are printing lies about their very own city, and people are being ridiculed right out their front doors. What message does that really send about Winter Day to the influential masses?"

Someone in the back yelled, "That Midgar sucks no matter what time of year it is?!"

The Turk laughed. "Not quite, but close. It says that people are at their most vulnerable during the holidays when family is put first, and it also says that we're willing to attack them with all we've got, moral or no. Now I know that hearing this from a Turk may be a bit of a pot-kettle-black moment, but I like to think I know what I'm talking about. I used to live down there; shit, I killed more of those people when it was illegal than have ever seen their name in print."

Everyone was talking, and most questions revolved around whether he'd lost his mind or not.

"What I'm saying is that Midgar's a strong city, even I know that. We're not going to be knocked over by some no-name without a calling card. If anything, the gangs will sort him out much faster than we ever could, so why put it in the paper when those affected can't afford one? Why tell the world we're such a -- a shit place if the people bathing in it are handling themselves extremely well under the circumstances? The only problem with Midgar is that we've locked ourselves out of the slums and told ourselves we're better than them when, on a moral decency scale, they've got our asses on the burner."

Now the talk had changed to brief explosions of support and confession from those in attendance. Heideggar looked indifferent, Scarlet sat with a knowing smile, and Reeve had been stoicly clapping for a good minute.

"So celebrate this like it's Winter Day, not a day where people are dying. Does someone cancel their birthday because someone got shot? Hell no! If that's the way it went, we'd never celebrate anything in Midgar again. As leader of the Turks, I back General Heideggar up when I say that this city is as safe as it's ever been, and that if anything is not under control, the Turks will make it so. Happy Winter Day, and thank you."

The reaction was a little more than he'd expected from a crowd such as that, what with the former gang members present letting their necklaces of veteran status hang out over their suits, but Reeve would still be getting his fair share of complaints the next day and Reno's pay would be docked for a few hours. Perhaps the most surprising thing was that Heideggar was the first person among the pleased to stand up and clap.

"It takes diff'rent strokes," muttered Reeve as he, too, clapped.

The doctor from Junon's speech fell on deaf ears; the buzz from Reno's sudden moment of city pride was just too immense for her to actually get her point across. Even Reno didn't listen to her, and he was looking very attentive. When she was done and Reeve had declared the bar open, the buffet free for the taking, and the dances on, the redhead signaled for a smoke break over the crowd and met up with Rude at the door.

The taller man chose not to say anything on the speech but instead kept the topic on what they havoc plans for the night were. Reno, jokingly, had out a notepad -- he'd slipped it into his pocket after the speech -- and a pen to write this all down with when a man strutted up to the doors, reeking of drugs.

The Turks exchanged a look that held more meaning than this man thought.

"Name's right there on this list, ain't it?" said the man, who was wearing an oversized Schmidt suit with sunglasses. He rapped on the back of the notepad with a grimy knuckle, and Reno caught a glimpse of a blade attached to his wrist beneath his sleeve. He knew what this guy were here for; if he thought they were bouncers, there was a list to get in, and that a trained Turk couldn't see a concealed weapon with their eyes closed, he was definitely their man. He fit the description, too. "Tim. Tim the Winter Day Pimp, y'dig?"

He couldn't go for his gun, because the guy's hand was so close that even he wasn't fast enough to avoid the right flick of that nasty-looking blade. He looked around inconspicuously, then down at the list. "Uh, let me see. Yeah, Tim, right here." The pause from the confused "pimp" was enough time for Reno to do the only thing he could. He whipped the pen around and jammed it into the closest thing he could find that was soft and fleshy -- conveniently, the side of Tim's head.

Tim the Winter Day Pimp dropped like a sack of Schmidt.

They sang the song for years, with one minor fact changed. It became their new Winter Day carol around the office: "Reno Drannor took a pencil, stuck the fucker in Tim's temple!" None of them taught their children, but it sure made for a good bar story.

---

**Author's Note**: One week left! Then this thing will be out of my life for good, but I'll miss it. Stay tuned.


	12. And a Glass of Brandy in a Turk's Hand

**Author's Note**: Here it is. The conclusion, the finale, the emergency exit for those of you biting the bullet and humoring me. Merry Christmas, and thanks for the past twelve weeks. 

. . .Well, not really twelve weeks. In actuality, it's September 29th and I started in July. What can I say? I'm an early riser. Large note post-story.

**Edit**: And here I am, a few states away, to deliver this to you. Enjoy. Or not. Whatever.

**The Turks Christmas Special : And a Glass of Brandy in a Turk's Hand**

---

The paramedics came and diagnosed Tim the Christmas Pimp as "dead as a doornail," which was the way one of them actually put it. They took him away and cleaned up the mess under the watchful eyes of Rude, Scarlet, Reeve, Reno, and Elena. When the two women had run out holding hands, Reno pointed excitedly at their clasp and yelled "AHA!" so loudly that one of the medics gave him a look straight from Hell.

Rude seemed pretty indifferent to the matter, but Reeve had known all along.

In an hour or two the party came to a halt and everyone, after doing their best to restore the ballroom to its usual shine before the janitors had to do it, went back to their respectable places of business none the wiser about the killer that had been stabbed with a writing utensil right outside of their ball.

Reeve just shrugged and quietly said, "It's really quite better that way."

The paramedics came to idolize him for being the rational one in the bunch.

After almost everyone had gone, it was Scarlet and Reno again, sitting on folding chairs at the buffet and putting the extra wine to a good use. "So," said the Turk, "you and Laney? Was that a serious thing?"

"Nah," she laughed, popping a cracker into her mouth and washing it down. "We've been making ourselves an image with the dates and all, but we were really just trying to see how the suits would react and if the company would punish it. She's got a boyfriend that works at some fast-food joint she went to last month. Didn't she ever introduce him to you?" Her hair had come out of its tie of her own free will some time ago.

Reno smiled. "I left Laney's love life when she left my mind, y'know? Elena, Winter Day, dating. . .last year I woulda shot somebody over this, but I'm healed. I proposed, remember?"

"Proposed my ass," she spluttered. "You had a ring sent to her apartment by the floral guy who owns the shop with the jeweler! No message except "From Reno" on the box. That's not a proposal, that's a pansy-ass cop-out. You've gotta do it in person, with feeling."

He shrugged. "Wouldn't know how if I felt like it now. If they taught dating in college, there wouldn't be so many drop outs. Nobody tells you the proposal voice, the right way to ask if they wanna come in after the date, the way to hold their hand without looking like a priss. My dating skills are shit, but I can pick up a drunk like nobody's business."

"So what am I?"

"Mm," he hummed. "Ever-present fuck buddy?"

They laughed over that one, but Scarlet insisted on something before she left to go check on her cat. She took a swig of wine and stood up, only slightly tipsy. In the world of ShinRa, someone had to be able to hold their alcohol. One needed much of it to survive the company, and if they couldn't drink well, they'd be a shell full of cookie dough by week two. It was just that stressful. She jerked a finger and Reno stood up as she began humming.

The situation caught him rather quickly. "Scarlet, I know how to dance," he explained as she lifted her hands and began moving backward. "They teach you dancing in SOLDIER for the inaugural ball, remember?" She jerked her hands and hummed louder, that mock anger behind her eyes.

He gave in and submitted. Both of them laughed idiotically as they swept about the empty ballroom, stepping on dropped chips, slipping twice on spilled alcohol and catching themselves both times, falling back into rhythm. More than once his hands ventured to places no traditional man would, but she slapped them away with a laugh and said, "Nu-uh. Remember, etiquette is the key factor in achieving a date."

They went on with this for about ten minutes, never missing a step unless they were both trying to do the same one. When the song ended -- or, rather, when Scarlet was too out of breath to think up another bar -- he dipped her like the gentleman he would never even attempt to be.

Something happened then that they'd never quite felt before. Hands drawn up between each other with another of Reno's at the small of his partner's back, a sudden shock ran through them, and they liked it. Suddenly they weren't Reno and Scarlet; they were the bride and groom taking the first dance at their reception, looking into each other's eyes in the dip with an expression that said, "Never let me go."

"Marry me," she whispered.

Reno wasn't confused; he took it in stride and wondered briefly if she was serious, but he wasn't genuinely confused about it. Something transpired in that second in silence, he looking smugly handsome and she looking awed and beautiful, that they knew was real. They knew they could do this for the rest of their lives and it would be just as it was right now, just congregated into one house during the days as well. "So," he murmured, "does that mean I don't need any more lessons?"

She never answered that question, just repeated, "Marry me."

He let her up, but his hand didn't leave hers. "Alright, so maybe my dating skills aren't absolutely terrible." He didn't want to reply to her statement. If he said yes and she wasn't serious, she would make a fool of him at the office. If he said no and she was serious, she might be crushed. But if he said yes and she was serious. . .what was he afraid of? He knew it would work. If he said no and she wasn't serious, it would all be fine.

There were just too many opportunities for failure.

She smiled. "I think we're both a bit drunk, Reno." That would leave him guessing at her meaning the whole time, he decided as they went around shutting the lights off. Outside, she kissed him on the cheek and went to her car, across the lot from his.

Reno himself sat on the curb for maybe twenty minutes, smoking and trying to figure out what was going on. Yuffie had disappeared from his mind, and he'd decided now that he just wouldn't be able to handle a real, stay-at-home relationship with her. He hated ties to anything stationary, and he needed to be a Turk, dammit. He needed to pillage and kidnap for the greater good in the name of Emerson Reeve or his life was just. . .it just didn't matter.

He looked at the sky for a while, pondered the existence of any kind of god, and then PHS out his phone and dialed. After three rings, a surprised voice picked up. "Reno?" She'd gotten home already; that was the only place she had a caller ID of any sort. And he could hear her cat, Simon, yowling in the background. "Isn't it dangerous to drive around Midgar on a phone, especially in your car?"

Second time's a charm, said the side of his brain that. . .well, he didn't know which side had told him. They both seemed to be agreeing for once, despite getting the cliché wrong. Two years in a row, this one surely had to work. He thought about that. Then he thought again. Then he decided that this was the only time he was going to get to do it.

". . .Hey, Scarlet. Marry me?"

There was an earth-ending pause, and then a soul-shattering intake of breath. He didn't even know if he wanted this; but he knew it would work and he knew they would be as close to happy as they could be working as they did. "Holy, Reno, I hope you're not allergic to cats."

He smirked. Somewhere, something wasn't as full of Schmidt as he'd thought.

---

-Fin.

---

**Author's Note**: **_OH MY GOD!!! HOW COULD YOU HAVE HIM JUST UP AND LEAVE YUFFIE LIKE THAT?!! THAT'S SO FUCKING IMMORAL!!! THAT IS SO TOTALLY OUT OF CHARACTER AND I HATE YOU FOR IT!!!_** Have I covered the range of reactions short of death threats? I would list those, but I know how creative my friends are and Drakon alone could think up a thousand ways I couldn't.

This is my story. I know that's a cop-out, but I'd also like to say. . .Reno and Scarlet were given little to no personalities, and though we know her dialogue, no one goes in depth on Yuffie's reactions to letdown. Therefore, it is perfectly plausible to say that this is fine by all of them, including our little ninja; maybe she, secretly, did this for the money? Is there any proof otherwise? No, and that is how I rest my case. I am either following character or making up my own character personalities, and I like the way it turned out. So, in the great words of TOOL and A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan: "_You can point that fuckin' finger up your ass_."

A long list of well-earned thank yous to the people who have made this year not only bearable but breathtakingly unforgettable. I've seen my highs, my lows, my goods, my bads, my good deeds, and my sins all in these past twelve months, and these people've been there through it all, even if some didn't know it as much as others. And so, this story is fully dedicated, in whole, to the following people that make me truly love what I do:

Kathy, Drakon, E-Mommy, Pip, Nighty, Rich, Tnarg, Garfunkel, Jess, J, The Highwaywoman, Athena, Sabe, Sol, Tio, Clara, Tini, DA, Heather Cat, magnum, Lindz, Mem, Shad, and everyone I've inspired/touched/creeped the hell out of ( sorry, Erik ) over the past three years.

So that's it. Probably the last you'll see of Reno Spiegel in the year 2004, but the 2005 generation should expect that I'm still gonna be around to piss you off with my twist endings and the like. As my first chapter story in a long while, this just means so much so me that I still have it in me to finish it. Look, Ma! Skill!


End file.
